


All The Roads Lead Back To You

by Hedgebelle (Ahaanzel)



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Under the Red Hood, Young Justice (Cartoon)
Genre: A/B/O-wise, Alpha Jason Todd, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, And apparently it's hilarious, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Canon What Canon, Crime Boss Jason Todd, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Everyone wants Jason to be happy, Getting Together, His gang just wants him to be happy, Jason Todd Swears, Jason Todd in Love, Jason Todd is Red Hood, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Nesting, Omega Dick Grayson, Omega Verse, POV Jason Todd, Self-Indulgent, The Author Regrets Everything, This fic has been called a palate cleanser, Timeline What Timeline, With A Twist, but no actual mpreg, is a bit of a drama queen, low-key pregnancy kink, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-22
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:19:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 49,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23789962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ahaanzel/pseuds/Hedgebelle
Summary: That right there, that was the reason Jason hated Dick Grayson. All he had to do was to smile or flash a bit of skin and puff!, just like that Jason’s chill was gone.OR: JayDick omega verse fanfic this fandom apparently needs and deserves (but I still think it deserves better!).
Relationships: Dick Grayson/Jason Todd
Comments: 398
Kudos: 1662





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just to make few things clear: English is not my native language, metric system is used because I’m aggressively European and this whole fic is written for the sole purpose of lessening my pandemic-related anxiety.  
> Enjoy.

Red Hood was in the process of busting the kneecaps of two wannabe drug lords, when his com buzzed to life. “Boss?”

He grunted a confirmative, while delivering a solid kick too, for a good measure. Answering howl of pain made him snort. Pussies.

“It better be good,” he warned. Normally, one of lieutenants would be doing the honours of beating these guys up; Red Hood was simply too busy a man to deal with small fry personally. But tonight he made an exception for those lucky bastards, because tonight he was teaching Gotham a lesson – you do a funny business on Red Hood’s territory and Red Hood comes find you and ends you. To make sure the lesson would stick, he even did the whole flashy spiel of raiding a freaking nightclub with guns blazing, to publicly bust their meeting and drag their asses to abandoned warehouse for a good, old-fashioned talk.

Though arguably, flashy was not always the smartest way to go about things in Gotham.

“One of the bats was at the club. He’s coming your way.”

For fuck’s sake! He was in the middle of something and so not in the mood for another instalment of their fucked up family drama. “Which one?” He growled. Whatever chip there was on Replacement’s shoulder, it could be dealt with swiftly, with a kick in the butt to send the nerd flying all the way back to the Bat Cave. Demon Brat, however, was more tricky, as he felt morally compelled to return him to Bat’s own hands. So what if the kid recently presented; he was still small enough to pass as a pup.

“The pretty one.”

Crap. So it was Nightwing, just the person he’s been going out of his way to avoid.

“You know what to do, boys.” With a sharp nod to his lieutenants, he put his gun back the holster on his thigh and turned around just in time to see a dark figure jump through a hole in the roof.

 _What are you doing here, Dickhead?_ , was what Jason wanted to ask, words already on the tip of his tongue, but as he opened his mouth to actually voice them out, his mind suddenly caught up with what his eyes were seeing, and what he ended up saying instead, was “ **What the hell are you wearing?!** ” It was more of a roar, really, perfectly channelling a fifty-something overprotective alpha father at the sight of their youngest, beloved omega child wearing a crop top for the first time in their lives. That was exactly how his words came across and he only realised it, when stunned silence followed his outburst; even the greenie dumbasses seemingly forgot they were in pain, as they traded groaning for gawking.

And just like that Red Hood was Jason Todd again, blushing furiously and thanking his lucky stars that his helmet hid it. Nightwing, the most badass, independent omega out there, hasn’t yet dignified his alpha-patriarchal scandalised bullshit with a response, but he was bound to have a look on his face and by gods, Jason couldn’t force himself to see it. Whatever expression the vigilante was wearing, it would surely make Jason pray for the ground to open and swallow him whole.

(That right there, that was the reason Jason hated Dick Grayson. All he had to do was to smile or flash a bit of skin and _puff!_ , just like that Jason’s chill was gone.)

Though his mortification gave way to a very different emotion, once he realised that attention of both his gang and his victims was now sorely focused on Nightwing and his _ugh_ , outfit.

Fortunately for the protection of his secret identity Birdie had his domino mask on – probably slapped it on the moment Red Hood stormed the nightclub. Since his baby blues were hidden out of sight, nobody was swooning at the colour of his eyes, but – unfortunately for Jason’s sanity – it meant that everyone focused on the way his leather trousers were basically painted-on and his shirt was so flimsy and see-through, it was a wonder why he had even bothered.

Jason took deep, calming breaths and closed his fists. It took conscious effort not to (gauge everyone’s eyes out) drape his jacket over Nightwing’s shoulders or maybe wrap it around his waist, to shield him from lustful gazes, and maybe scent him a little, like his alpha desperately wanted to. But it wasn’t Jason’s place. Washing his hands off all things Bat meant that Bruce was no longer his pack alpha. By extension, it should have also meant that Dick Grayson wasn’t his pack omega anymore.

…Key words being should have. Because pack or not, Dick’s omega always had and always would hold a special place in Jason’s life.

“Did you hear anything I’ve just said?”

Oh, he’s been talking? Jason honestly didn’t notice, what with him being too busy starring daggers at everyone who gave Nightwing’s firm behind a glad-eye. Somehow, without any conscious thought on his part, he also took off his leather jacket and now it was dangling helplessly thrown over his forearm.

“Oh for crying out loud!” Nightwing grabbed the jacket and put in over his shoulders.

Jason felt some of the tension bleed out of his shoulders. “You were saying?” He asked, aiming for casual and chill, because dammit, he was Red Hood. He was _the_ crime lord. Scum of Gotham’s underworld pissed themselves at a mere mention of his name, just like those two idiots-made-example had earlier that evening.

Nightwing looked distinctively unimpressed. “I was saying,” he crossed his arms over his chest, “that I’ve been working on a case in that club, undercover -”

Since his filter was apparently gone along with his chill, he interjected with a snort “As a whore?”

Once again, dead silence fell upon the place.

Aw shit, no. Jason mentally winced, because he really, really shouldn’t have said that. Normally he would never, to anyone, regardless of their designation. Jason wasn’t that kind of person, okay?! It was just that Dick Grayson always brought out the worst out of Jason – an uptight, conservative alpha who _disapproves_.

Nightwing bristled and predictably, did what a stressed out and pissed off Grayson was known to do. He lashed out. “How about you go back and rot wherever you crawled from?!”

Ouch.

So maybe Jason kind of deserved that, but damnit, it still hurt. “You mean my grave?” Never let it be said that Red Hood couldn’t give as good as he got.

Next second he was wishing he had kept his mouth shut. All breath left Nightwing in a long hiss and his shoulders dropped, making him look smaller, more fragile somehow. Seeing him defeated like that made Jason feel all kinds of terrible.

“Sorry,” he whispered and no, just fuck no. Nightwing shouldn’t be the one apologising in here. “That was uncalled for.”

Now he felt like a victim-blamer on top of everything else and Jason wasn’t… that. Red Hood wasn’t that either, so of course he saw his men look at him funny with the corner of his eye and… the fuck, were greenie drug lords judging him now?!

“The thing is…” Nightwing rubbed his forehead tiredly. “I’ve been working on this case for weeks and the mission I took before went up in flames halfway through, because somehow _Deathstroke_ got involved,” Jason growled at the name, but Nightwing ignored him, “I can’t seem to catch a break lately and it’s been forever since my last heat, and -”

Jason’s mind came to a scratching halt. “What?! What do you mean forever?!” He grabbed Nightwing’s arms and leaned down. “‘Wing, that’s unhealthy!” And alarming. It was a well-known fact that omega’s circle wasn’t regulated by hormones alone; psychosomatic factors played just as important role. More often than not lack of heat indicated that something was going terribly wrong in omega’s personal life. Maybe they were depressed, maybe they felt threatened and had no safe space to nest. Triggering a heat through artificial means, such as questionable meds, didn’t work either, as quite a few bull-headed alphas throughout the course of history had learned the hard way.

The point was, scared or unhappy omegas didn’t go into heat.

Which begged the question why Nightwing would feel stressed or unhappy, or unsafe.

(Jason shouldn’t care. Not his pack, not his omega, none of business, but good luck explaining that to his lizard brain.)

“Um.” Nightwing looked pointedly at the group of men behind Jason’s back.

He growled. Why was Grayson paying attention to lesser alphas when Jason was _right there_?!

“You mind?” Nightwing snapped and finally, it dawned on Jason that the vigilante might not be entirely comfortable with their captivated audience. “BECAUSE I DO.”

“Right.” He glared at his lieutenants. “Get back to work!” He spanned, then put a firm hand on Nightwing’s shoulder and marched him outside, well out of the earshot. “Talk to me, ‘Wing.”

Nightwing shrugged his hand off. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Bullshit. If there was nothing, you’d be nesting back at the Bat’s and have him clear the area within 10km radius.” Jason wasn’t even joking. It was a well-known fact that omegas only let themselves be vulnerable, when under protection of a person as capable (or even more so) of defending them, as they themselves were under normal circumstances. Since Birdie was, well… badass, the old Bat took great pride in having him nest on his territory and took his role of a protector dead serious. Rare visitors were banned the moment Dick started hording blankets and pillows and once the heat started, no-one, not even Alfred, was allowed into his room. Bat saw to it personally, what with him guarding the door.

Nightwing sighed. “First, I went away on an assignment that it took way longer than it should. When I got back, B and I had a bit of a disagreement and now I don’t feel comfortable asking… _that_ of him. And it doesn’t feel safe, in Büdhaven, when I’m on my own.” He trailed off and looked to the side.

“Birdie,” Jason touched his cheek and titled his head to look him in the eye. “Whatever disagreement you had, old Bat would never deny you his help. We both know this.”

Nightwing laughed humourlessly. “I mean, I know that logically. But try telling that to my omega.”

When put like that, it seemed a perfectly reasonable explanation. Still, Jason couldn’t shake off a feeling that Dick was intentionally leaving something out. “C’on, I’m not gonna judge.”

“Well,” he hesitated. Whatever it was, he was probably feeling guilty, beating himself over not sucking it up. “I mean, B already has enough on his plate, these days.”

What did he…?

Ah. The Demon Brat.

When Bruce first took Jason in, literally off the streets, he was certainly no angel. Yet, when it came to being an obnoxious little shit, it was one Damian Wayne who took the crown, and to make matters worse, the menace recently presented as an alpha. No wonder Dick’s omega didn’t feel like letting itself loose in a place where _that_ was allowed to run free.

“What about your friends?” He forced himself to asked. His alpha didn’t like the idea of anyone other than Bruce being around Dick at his most vulnerable, and that discomfort put him on edge. “Surely they’d help you out. For example that speedster, what’s his face.” Wally West. Jason remembered that name damned well, since it’s been on his target list for ages. He decided world would be a better place without West five minutes into his first visit at Mt Justice, when he saw him leering at Dick in his new Nightwing suit.

If Jason found out that fucking redhead went anywhere near Dick during his heat, or God forbid, laid one grubby finger on the omega, he would rip out his spine and drink from his skull.

“Kid Flash?” Nightwing asked, jerking him out of his violent fantasies. “Don’t get me wrong, Kid’s great.”

No, he was not. Jason once caught him comment on the lack of cape in Nightwing’s suit and how that enabled him to _really_ appreciate the view. Superspeed or not, no amount of anything could have let him avoid Jason bashing his head into the wall.

(Coincidently, Jason’s career with the team ended about the same time.)

“But…” Nightwing looked at him from under his eyelashes. “He’s not a pack.”

Oh. Now that was some quality food for thought and a thought it was that suddenly occurred to Jason; a terrible, horrible thought that dared not be spoken out loud. Unfortunately, his mouth seemed to develop a mind of its own and it wasted no time sharing the thought with the world. “What about me?”

Nightwing frowned. “What about you?”

“I could, um. I mean,” and now his mouth made an executive decision to not work at all, while his mind was screaming, mortified. “You, that is…”

“Spit it out, Hood.”

Goddammit. “If you nested at my place, I would keep you safe.”

The look on Nightwing’s face made it painfully clear that asking Jason for help (deeming his alpha good enough to protect him) not once had crossed his mind.

And that was how Jason Todd finally met his end, he thought dryly. Not beaten up to death by a madman with a crowbar, but dismissed by the only omega he had ever cared for. One last question still up in the air was how Dick was going to go about the rejection. Would he laugh in Jason’s face, reducing him to nothing but a puddle of hot shame? Would he run away screaming, all the way back to the manor, choosing demon brat’s company over street rat-cum-failure’s? Or, dear Lord, would he let Jason down _gently_?! Should he go for the last option especially, he would never recover. The rest of this evening was already unfolding in Jason’s mind. Jason would politely excuse himself, go on a killing spree around Crime Alley, under pretence off weeding out new drug lords, then collapse in his safehouse and drink himself to death – hopefully, it would stick this time.

“Actually…” Nightwing said, thoughtful. Under his gaze, something young and eager woke up in Jason’s chest, and it trembled with excitement and anticipation, and Jason hated it. He had no business being hopeful, not when he should be steeling himself for inevitable rejection. “That might work.”

…Now, that couldn’t be right. Maybe his brain refused to process English for a second here? Because he could have sworn it sounded awfully like Dick taking him up on his offer.

Nightwing was blissfully ignorant of the existential crisis Jason was going through. “I would need to see your place first, of course.”

“Of course.” Jason agreed dumbly, his head filled with static.

“Preferably sometime soon, I’m due in a week.”

Jason felt himself suck in a breath, then open up his mouth and form words. Speak words. It was a very strange experience. He felt like a stranger in his own body, unable to control its actions.

“Great! Thanks, Hood.” Nightwing beamed at him and handed back his jacket. With a cheerful wave, he spun around and confidently marched away. Thought he couldn’t smell it with his helmet on, Jason knew his alpha’s scent had to linger on his skin and wow, was he always so week at the knees?

Also, what did he tell Dick, again?

* * *

First time they officially met, Dick was swinging upside-down from the chandelier.

“And I gave him a whole room full of gymnastics equipment.” Bruce mutter under his breath, shaking his head. Out loud, he called, “what have I told you about swinging from the light fittings?”

Dick’s responding bout of laughter was so impish, so obnoxious, so signature _Robin_ , Jason couldn’t help feeling a little bit star-struck. It was finally happening! He was finally meeting Dick Grayson, the boy wonder.

Not that Jason was a fanboy or anything lame like that.

“Not to fall?” Dick laughed some more. “Don’t worry, I won’t fall FOR anyone. But I will fall ON you!”

Wow, that was a terrible joke, he thought and then almost got a heart attack, because Dick freakin’ jumped off the chandelier. Jason cried out and to his horror, his voice cracked, because fuck you puberty.

Meanwhile, Dick did an elegant flip and somehow, impossibly, landed lightly in Bruce’s outstretched arm. All casual and effortless, like breaking rules of physics was no biggie.

Right. Now Jason felt very silly. Obviously the boy wonder would be alright! All of Gotham knew he treated gravity as a mere suggestion. Nobody was more intimately acquainted with this fact than Batman himself, who stood there impassive (seriously, not a single facial muscle of his had twitched!) with an armful of smiling Grayson and let out a long-suffering sigh. “Dick, meet Jason Todd.”

Grayson turned his head and Jason unconsciously straightened his back. Nobody knew how the boy wonder looked like without his domino mask and, oh dear God, his eyes were blue.

“Oh!” Grayson jumped off Bruce’s arms and walked closer. Looking up at him, Jason felt inadequate. While the boy wonder was lean and graceful, and _pretty_ , Jason was very tall and this as a rake. Not to mention his feet were too big and his face was spotted with acne.

“Hi,” Grayson smiled. “Nice to meet you. B told me a lot about you.”

“He is taking over as a Robin.” Bruce said and Jason puffed out his chest. Now that was bound to impress him! It’s not like just anyone could take up the mantle of Batman’s partner!

But instead of awe or amazement he’d been secretly hoping for, something dark crossed Grayson’s expression and his smile faltered.

…So it seemed that maybe Bruce left out some crucial details, when he’d been _talking a lot_ about Jason. That alone would be a reason enough to upset him, but what if the first Robin hated him now? If that was the case, Dick did his best to hide it. He shook his head slightly and curled his lips (pink and plush, and why was he noticing it now?) in a smile so obviously fake Jason instantly hated it.

“Oh,” he said. “Well, since you’re family now, I guess I should give appropriate welcome.” He reached up and fingered the edge of scent-blocking patch on the side of his neck.

Huh, Jason didn’t notice him wearing them before. Now that he was paying attention, he could smell the strong scent of Bruce, the pack’s alpha (pack, Jason was part of a pack!), but Dick’s was absent. If the rumour mill of Gotham’s underbelly was to be believed, nobody safe Batman caught even a whiff of it, so boy wonder’s designation remained a mystery.

Well, Jason was about to find out about both.

Grayson peeled off his patch and his scent entered Jason with a breath, filling up his lungs. There was a signature omega-sweet tinge to it, but the scent itself…

Oh, the scent. How could Jason describe it? Adjectives alone couldn’t possible give it justice. The olfactory sensation painted a vision behind his closed eyelids and it was a spectacle of colour, evoking the excitement of a circus performance, a thrill of free-falling and self-assurance of a cat that always lands on its feet. An invitation to join the land of wonders, if only for one evening. 

Jason realised his hands were shaking. He took deep breaths to calm himself, but sweet oxygen was laced with that scent, filling up his lungs and travelling with his blood to every single cell of his body; there was no escape. Something coiled tightly deep inside him jerked to life, as if in response to inaudible call. The room felt too hot, or maybe Jason himself felt too hot and his skin too tight, because that _something_ had him full to the point of bursting. It wanted out, it wanted to break free and grab what was theirs, but _there was no out_.

With a choked scream, Jason clutched his stomach and folded in half.

“Jason!” Bruce’s concerned shout came from far, far away. The world was spinning. Sounds bleed into smells and smells were a greedy black swallowing edges of his vision.

He blacked out.

*

First time they officially met, Dick’s omega punched an alpha out of Jason.


	2. Chapter 2

_Come over tomorrow. I’ll text you time and place._

After five minutes of glaring at a brick wall of the warehouse, Jason finally remembered his parting words to Dick. Confidence bolstered by that recollection, he fished out his phone and fired a quick text – 5PM with a question mark, followed by the address to his flat.

That’s right, his flat. Not a safehouse, not a seemingly abandoned warehouse furnished with a creaky cot he’d sometimes crash at when terrorising Gotham’s underworld proved too busy a job, but his actual flat where he lived as Jason, no surnames asked. Maybe it wasn’t luxurious, but it was convenient and most importantly, located safely out of the way in an okay neighbourhood – meaning, it was semi-safe to walk around in the evenings, but Gotham elite would never voluntarily step a foot in there. Chances of running into _Bruce Wayne_ were practically non-existent.

Few seconds later the screen lit up with an incoming message – thumbs up and smiley face from Dick. Rolling his eyes, Jason pocketed his phone and made to go back to the warehouse and finish what he had started. His mind has already moved onto more pressing matters, like weighing the pros and cons of hanging greenie drug lords from the cranes in Gotham Bay, when yet another thought occurred to him. This time, though, it was not of the _terrible-horrible_ , but the foreboding kind.

Should he do something to prepare for Dick’s visit?

As if to answer his query a half-forgotten memory resurfaced, of Bruce’s many mental breakdowns triggered by Dick calling him about his heat. The Bat would drop whatever he’d been doing – or, on one memorable occasion, whomever he’d been beating up – in the wake of such call and rush back to the manor, wrestle dusting cloths and vacuum cleaner from Alfred and obsessively go about cleaning Dick’s room himself. Never you mind that the old butler would never allow even a speck of dust in there in the first place; Bruce wouldn’t be satisfied until every surface in that room was practically emitting light on its own.

Jason had thought it ridiculous at the time, but now that Dick (omega) deemed Jason (and his alpha) worthy and believed him strong enough to protect him and provide him with comfort like no one else, not even Bruce, would – yeah, he got it, alright.

And so, a trickle of apprehension pooled in his stomach. Sure, his place was nice, but Birdie was used to spending his heats in a freaking manor, and while Jason was a neat person by nature, it has been – what, two, three weeks? – since he had spent any quality time at him flat. His potted plants has got be dead by now.

Jason couldn’t imagine a nesting omega appreciative of shrivelled flora in their immediate vicinity.

…He wasn’t freaking out, okay? He was just going to make a small detour and pop up by his place to water the plants and do a tidy-up real quick. He was telling himself that as he grappled his way through the city; he was telling himself that as he got to his flat through a window (because Red Hood riding up the lift with neighbouring old ladies? Not a good idea.) But once he got a good look of the living room, he couldn’t tell himself that anymore.

Everything around him was covered in a fine layer of dust. That on itself, though upsetting, could be dealt with fairly quickly, but a peek into the fridge revealed a single carrot and a gallon of expired milk and somehow, that made him feel even worse. All the plants, with an exception of one tiny cactus, were dead as predicted and _oh dear Lord_ , was that BLACK MOLD creeping in where the wall met the ceiling?

Jason felt like the scales fell from his eyes. Up until now he has been living in a delusion. His place wasn’t nice or neat. It was a fucking dumpster fire. No way in hell Dick would ever want to nest in here.

Two seconds away from spiralling down the drain of despair, he did what any sensible alpha in his situation would – he called for a backup.

*

“…The fuck?” A newbie in the Red Hood’s gang thought that summed up pretty well what was everyone’s mind, as they watched the door slam shut, boss’ hurried footsteps fading away.

When they all got an urgent summon to some generic middle class neighbourhood half an hour ago, along with an instruction to _fuckin’ look inconspicuous_ , it was a bit confusing, sure, but stranger things did happen in their line of work. Once they arrived at the indicated address, though, the last thing they expected to see was a crazy-eyed Red Hood (sans the hood), who promptly thrust a bunch of cleaning products at them and with a vague threat of _this place better be spotless or else_ rushed out to look for the closest Home Depot still open at this hour.

“I didn’t sign up for this to play a cleaning lady!” Newbie complained and angrily threw away a mop he’d been handed. He looked around, expecting to see men in favour of his mutiny.

What he got instead was a resounding slap to the back of his head from one of the lieutenants. “God, you’re stupid. Get that fuckin’ mop before I show it up your ass. Boss got an omega he needs to impress.”

“Yeah, you heard him!” Men around were nodding and grunting their agreement. “Better mop that fuckin’ floor ‘till you see your ugly mug in it! Boss deserves some happiness!”

* * *

Next day, at precisely three past five, Dick appeared at his doorstep with a duffle bag on his shoulder and retro high-pointed triangle sunglasses he favoured perched on the bridge of his nose. Jason only noticed the time, because he might or might not have been pacing in front of the door for the last half an hour, compulsively checking his watch every twenty seconds, while awaiting his arrival.

They exchanged greetings and damn, if it wasn’t awkward. It’s been a long while since they last interacted, not as Red Hood and Nightwing, but just Jason and Dick, and within seconds it became painfully clear they had no idea how to act around each other when wearing civvies. Not that either of them was winning at the civilian life to begin with, what with Dick’s adrenaline junkie, eating cereal only ways, completely dissociated from the Richie Wayne persona, and Jason being, you know, legally dead.

Jason stepped aside to let his guest in. “I know it’s not exactly the Wayne Manor…” he trailed off, because he had no idea how to finish that sentence. He busied himself bolting the door shut.

“No, no!” Dick was quick to assure, but sounded rather off. Curious, Jason looked over his shoulder.

Dick was standing dead in his tracks, barely two steps into the flat. He was taking in the room around him with a wide-eyed astonishment, the sunglasses now resting on the top of his head. “Believe me, I am whelmed.”

Seeing how stunned Dick was by the state of his flat, Jason was forced to confront the possibility that he might have had possibly gone a bit overboard in his eagerness to make the place suitable for the nesting. His nice, mostly bare flat, a den of a lone alpha, now looked like a feature in a home décor magazine slapped with a title like _Cosy home of omega’s dreams_ or something equally ridiculous. There was a plush carpet laid on the floor for comfort; thick curtains hung in the window for privacy and thrown haphazardly here and there were way too many cushions and stupid trinkets Jason neither needed nor wanted, but bought anyway in effort to make the place more homey. Every single item he had picked was red, _his_ shade of red, because his lizard brain was making a statement This flat was his territory and he would fucking murder whomever even breathed in the direction of Dick’s nest.

“Um, Jay?” Dick called hesitantly from where he had wandered in. “I never took you for a scented candle kind of guy.”

That would be because he wasn’t. Jason only got that shit, because a clerk at some fancy-ass store in the Diamond District talked him into it, claiming that nesting omegas _loved_ those. How he had ended up in that store in the first place, for the life of him, Jason couldn’t remember.

He wasn’t going to admit that, though, so he shuffled his feet and resolutely refused to look up from the carpet. He felt his face burning.

Dick laughed nervously. “Okay, never mind.”

Shit. He was angry at his stupid alpha brain and at Dick for maybe noticing that Jason cared tad too much, but most of all he was angry at himself for caring at all.

Also, he was going to find that fucking clerk and make him eat his fucking candle. And then skin him alive.

Pair of black shoes wandered into his field of vision. “Hey,” Dick said softly.

Jason cautiously looked up, not sure what to expect.

Dick was watching him with a soft look in his eyes. “Could you maybe give me a tour?”

Jason grunted.

“Great.” His nimble fingers toyed with the edge of scent-blocking patch on his neck, catching Jason’s attention. “Are you going to be okay, if I take it off?” A teasing smirk played around his lips.

At that, Jason had to roll his eyes. So maybe his presentation was sudden and violent, and triggered by Dick’s scent, but for fuck’s sake! He was an adult now, he could keep his alpha in check and would love to live _that_ down one of these days.

“Just checking,” Dick shrugged and next thing Jason knew, he was breathing in his scent, as alluring as it had always been, filling up his lungs and like oxygen, biding with his blood. It stirred something in Jason’s chest, nudged that young, terribly eager thing, demanding attention – and it longed to respond, to reach out and _claim_ , unaware that its claim would be meaningless.

When it came to these things, it was never alpha’s wish that mattered.

Jason slowly breathed out. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

It didn’t take all that long. Dick kept a straight face at the sight of brand new red towels in the bathroom, but red plates in the kitchen had him sniggering under his breath. Jason’s lips thinned and the silence on his part was ominous, as he opened the door to his bedroom, steeling himself for inevitable ridicule. Dick threw him a knowing look, but mercifully didn’t comment on the new bedding, thick curtains and a stack of blankets peeking out from a half-opened closet, all in a very particular shade of red.

Lastly, Dick pocked his head into the spare bedroom. He touched a quilt thrown over a sole piece of furniture, looked out of the window that faced a brick wall and finally, turned around to face Jason. He nodded to himself, seemingly reaching a decision.

Jason’s hearth wasn’t racing. It _wasn’t_.

(And his alpha, acting like it’s been put on a trial and awaiting a _live or die_ kind of verdict, wasn’t helping either.)

“Yeah, this will do.”

…And that meant what exactly? Was Dick going to nest here, or wasn’t he? Jason thought it was very unclear and so, he felt a bit lost, but nodded along anyway. Grasping for something, _anything_ to say, he asked “I mean, there’s also the other room.”

Dick shook his head. “Oh no, I couldn’t possibly!” When it came to polite refusal, he channelled Alfred and his British ways perfectly. “It’s your bedroom. If I used it, it would stink of my omega for weeks.”

His alpha failed to see the problem, but the more evolutionary advanced part of his brain understood where he was coming from. What Dick didn’t know, though, was that his scent wouldn’t be a bother, but a distraction. Jason could totally see himself neglecting his work in favour of pressing his nose to every nook and cranny of his bedroom in search of the lingering scent of omega’s pleasure. He was probably going to end up doing just that with this room too, instead of sealing it shup, but what Dick didn’t know, he couldn’t address. 

Jason followed Dick like a sheep back to the living room. The vigilante looked around some more, snickering at all the red (the colour on Jason’s cheeks probably included), then shrugged off his duffel bag on a coffee table. “I’m just going to leave it here, alright?” He asked nonchalantly, but there was a glint in his blue eyes.

And Jason recognised it for what it was – one final test. Should the bag had been opened, or be moved even a centimetre, or have some strange scent lingering about it when Dick came back to the flat sometime before his heat, he would not nest in here.

“Yeah, sure.” He shrugged, desperate to play it off cool. “Whatever.” He added for good measure and dug his hands into his pockets.

Dick grinned and then, because he was a little shit who had no idea what his words were doing to Jason, said “Don’t wash your clothes, okay? I will need them for my nest.”

Only once in the living memory did Dick ask him for an article of his clothing when building his nest; now, he would be making one consisting sorely of Jason’s stuff and in a week’s time, he would rolling in it, in heat, smelling like everything Jason has ever wanted. He would be taking care of his needs surrounded by Jason’s scent, out of sight, but definitely not out of earshot. Jason would be right there through it all, listening to every single one of his moans.

…Oh dear Lord, it was really happening. Dick was really coming over to spend his heat here and Jason was not going to survive it.

“Yep,” he choked out somehow through a sudden tightness of his throat.

“Oh, and for now, can I have your shirt?”

Jason had never stripped so quickly in his life.

* * *

It happened few weeks before his fifteen birthday.

He got back to the manor earlier that day, sooner than he was expected, because he had just been kicked off the team in the aftermath of the Wally West Incident. Alfred threw him a look that was 100% pure distilled disappointment, but thankfully, he neither commented, nor demanded an explanation for Jason’s poor behaviour. Bruce, on the other hand, wanted to both comment and demand an explanation, but he was too busy taking care of Dick, and Dick was… Well, Dick was in heat.

(He was also the omega whose honour Jason had only tried to protect. If this was where chivalry got people, it really should stay dead.)

To say he was unhappy would an understatement. Jason was ashamed and furious, but even more so than that, he was upset at the unfairness of it all. How come Kid Flash was cooed at and got a pat on the head, while Robin was looped upon with scorn? All that seemed to matter were Kid Flash’s straight As and Jason having been sent once to juvie. The League was full of bullshit, just like everyone else out there, and he has had enough. Just thinking about it made the need for violence raise and course right under his skin.

And then, there was Dick’s scent. The whole manor was imbued with it. Jason tried to escape it, hide in unused rooms, but no matter where he went, no matter what door he opened, the scent was already there thick in the air. It even permeated to the Bat Cave, though how that was possible was anyone’s guess.

He aired his room for hours before going to sleep. He nicked an air freshener from Alfred’s supply closed. He even light up a freaking incense stick, _anything_ to keep it out.

But the scent chased him even in his dreams.

He woke up with a start, just before the crack of dawn. Sun wasn’t up yet, but the night was thinning already to the promise of a new day.

He didn’t remember getting up, nor walking down long hallways of the manor. He remembered only the cold floor under his bare feet and the scent, laced with every breath he took. He couldn’t fend it off, not if he wanted to live.

Then, there was Bruce, sitting in a chair perfectly still, half-hidden in the shadows. His head rested on the door and his eyes were closed. No sound escaped from the room behind him.

“Jason?” Bruce stirred awake. “It’s still very early, go back to sleep. We can talk later.” He whispered softly, as if afraid to disturb the quiet before sunrise.

But he didn’t move. It was Bruce who should get out of the way.

Bruce cursed under his breath. “Jason! Snap out of it!” The whisper sounded urgent now.

He felt his lip curl in a snarl. “That’s my omega in there.” He snapped, looking at Bruce defiantly.

“That is not yours to decide.”

Jason growled, but Bruce was already moving; standing up from his chair, stepping closer, looming over him. His hands landed on Jason’s shoulders to better ground him in the moment. “Listen!” And it wasn’t Bruce or even Batman speaking, it was his pack alpha demanding attention.

The haze in his mind lifted slowly. “I am,” he whispered back.

Bruce sighed. “Do you know what happens, when alpha bites into omega’s scent gland?”

It sounded like a rhetorical question, so Jason stayed silent.

“Nothing happens.”

“What?!” He gasped. “But -”

Bruce shook his head. “No,” Bruce said and the intense look in his eyes put even more stress on that one word. “You could gnaw on his neck to your heart’s content and it wouldn’t mean a thing. It’s omega’s bite that creates the bond, not alpha’s. It’s up to omega to decide, never the other way around.”

He swallowed thinly. The chill in the air must have gotten to him, because he was shaking. Under Bruce’s heavy stare he felt so young, younger than he actually was, and desperate, and if he could just make him understand…!

“But it’s _his_ scent that wouldn’t leave me alone! I didn’t want to, but it brought me here!”

He thought that Bruce looked surprised at that, but then again, only shadows could know it for sure.

“Be as it may,” Bruce’s scowl gentled to more neutral expression. “He wouldn’t bond with you. His omega wants someone with whom he can allow himself to be vulnerable. And do you know what he sees when he looks at you?”

He shook his head. Sometimes he asked that question himself, when Nightwing gave feedback on the team’s performance or Dick wordlessly passed him in the hallway. He was curious to know but afraid to find out – he had an inkling he wouldn’t like the answer.

“A child.”

It was… fair, Jason supposed. Legally he wasn’t yet an adult, so he was a child, and on top of that just last week, during team’s mission to Bialya, he got his butt kicked right in front of Nightwing. It all made perfect sense. There was nothing to be upset about.

So why the sinking feeling in his stomach? Why was it so hard to hold in a sob? Why that something in him, woken up a whiff of Dick’s scent, was hurting like it’s heart was breaking?

“Oh, Jason.” Bruce sighed, his voice laced with sympathy. So he wasn’t made of stone, after all. “I didn’t realise you felt this strongly.” He gave Jason an awkward pat on the shoulder. “Listen, you can try to show him that you’re the right alpha for his omega. But first, you need to grow up to be that alpha.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry Jay! ;_; I will make it all better!
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> There's not much, but feel free to say hi :D.


	3. Chapter 3

“Weren’t you curious what’s inside?” Dick asked from where he was crouching by the coffee table, carefully examining his duffle bag. He was supposed to come check up on it a day before his heat at latest, so obviously, he only got around to it on the day he was due. Because he was a well-adjusted adult who was familiar with the concept of work-life balance.

Yes, Jason was being sarcastic – but _pot-kettle_ , so he kept his mouth shut.

And of course Jason had been curious! He was this close to tearing the stupid thing open at least few times, but the thought of betrayal in Dick’s blue eyes as he realised he would have to go without yet another heat was even more unbearable than the need to know, and so it stopped him every single time.

He shrugged and looked to the side.

“Well, I’m glad you weren’t.” Having been the very first Robin to a gruff and tough – not to mention tight-lipped – Batman, Dick didn’t bat an eyelid at how one-sided their conversation had been so far. Small mercies. “My omega’s wound up so tight, I might have broken down crying.”

Had Dick broken down crying because of his fuck-up, Jason would have broken down crying right there with him, kissing his reputation goodbye forever. Alternatively, he would have run away from the flat to storm that new base of operations Black Mask thought Red Hood hadn’t found out about yet and kill everyone in there then himself.

See, it wasn’t about the strength of will, it was about being aware of the consequences.

Dick zipped his bag open to check its contents. Guessing it was okay-ish to catch a peek now that the bag was safely back in omega’s hands, he craned his neck and realised – while you can bet on curiosity to kill a cat, satisfaction does not always bring it back. And also, no amount of bleach can make what was seen unseen.

The bag was packed with dildos.

 _The bag was packed with dildos_ **AND** it had been sitting innocently right here, in his living room, on his freaking coffee table this whole past week, while Jason had no idea.

(Even though he didn’t consider himself a prude, he was low-key scandalised.)

…Logically, he knew what omegas got up to during their heats. Still, actually seeing all the… ah, _tools_ Dick would be using, felt like being slapped in the face with a wet and very slimy fish. And why were they in so many different colours?! What did colour had to do with anything?! C’mon, one of them was neon green with orange polka dots! It wasn’t even trying to be realistic!

“You bought plants?” Dick’s voice pierced through layers upon layers of fluster and mental screaming, and brough him back to his senses. Jason gladly tore his eyes away from a particularly intimidating and anatomically incorrect knotting dildo and looked around for the vigilante.

While his brain was experiencing a meltdown, Dick moved away from the coffee table and was now examining collection of agaves, cactuses and aroid palms. “They weren’t here last week.” He touched a thick leaf gently and looked over his shoulder at Jason.

Well. In his frenzy to make the place nesting omega-friendly Jason kind of forgot a flat ought to be owner-friendly as well and without some greenery around to break the overwhelming red he couldn’t really relax. That was why a search for more drought-resistant plants, few days after Dick’s visit, brought him back to the Home Depot where Jason apparently – and unfortunately –had made quite an impression. Whichever aisle the took, an annoyingly helpful clerk would pop up and assure that the items on display there were available in _all the colours_. A giggly cashier had the gall to recommend their wide selection of red pots, but at Jason’s murderous glare and a growl promptly shut up.

Jason hated his life sometimes.

“Yeah,” he said and decided to leave it at that.

Dick stared at him, thoughtful. “Yeah, I can see you as a green-thumb kind of person.” Then he grinned, because let it never be said Grayson wasn’t a little shit. “Scented candle was pushing it, though.”

He wasn’t blushing, damnit, he wasn’t.

Fortunately, Dick didn’t seem to expect an answer. Instead, he touched the edges of scent-blocking patches on his neck and send Jason a questioning look. “Is it okay?”

He gave a curt nod. Letting Dick’s omega loose was kinda the point.

And so, the next breath Jason took was laced with his scent. It was okay, though, he knew the drill. He let it fill his lungs, cloud his thoughts for a moment, send a thrill down his spine an all the way to his toes, to his fingertips. But to his surprise, what should have come next – an insistent tug at that _something_ in his chest – didn’t. No, this time the scent seemed content to circle around Jason; it made him think of a predator readying itself to pounce.

In stark contrast to his scent, Dick himself merely breathed a relieved sigh and started massaging his scent glands with small, circular motions.

Huh. Jason had never seen him do that, but it wasn’t like he ever had a change to observe Dick this close to his heat. Bruce was very careful to time his assignments for Jason (team and later on solo) with Dick’s heats. He probably thought himself clever for that too and still thought Jason had never noticed.

“So,” Jason ventured, trying to hide just how out of his depth he felt. “What happens now?”

“Could you give me your clothes? I’d like to make my nest now.” Dick massaged his scent glands some more, as a shadow of discomfort passed his face. “The sooner, the better.”

Right. He was on the cusp of his heat already. “Yeah, sure,” he said breathlessly, panicking a little, because oh gods, it was not a drill.

“Thanks Jay,” Dick curled his lips in that sunny smile of his, because Jason being weak at his knees was exactly what they needed right now. “I mean it.”

Jason swallowed thinly. “Just wait here,” he said and ran to grab his stuff.

*

For the next hour Dick flittered about the flat, picking up cushions and pillows, sniffing them, rubbing against his face, then either snatching them up to bring to his nest, or discarding them with a scoff. The more stuff he gathered, the less talkative he got and once he deemed his pile of cosy materials big enough, he slammed the door to the spare room shut. Jason hadn’t seen hide nor hair of him since.

Minutes ticked past. The room remained dead silent and Dick’s (alluring, addictive) scent still lacked that maddening tinge associated with slick.

Was he okay in there? Maybe he needed Jason’s help but for whatever reason felt too shy to ask?

To hell with it, he decided. Anxious fretting by the door wasn’t going to get him anywhere.

“Hey, Birdie?” He knocked on the door. “You okay in there?”

No answer.

And that was his que to rush in a save the day. He pushed the door and walked inside.

The bed frame was empty as the mattress was dragged to the floor. Sitting on it was Dick, wrapped in a quilt that caught his attention earlier and surrounded by heaps of blankets, piles of cushions and Jason’s clothes. He was so completely focused on the task of arranging them to his liking, he failed to notice Jason entering the room, much less him knocking on the door.

(Seeing him surrounded with all that red kinda did things to Jason.)

His presence was acknowledged only when he reached out for one his T shirts.

“Don’t touch it!” Dick snapped at him. He’s blue eyes weren’t glazed over yet, but it was clear he would get there soon.

Jason raised his eyebrows at the hostility, frozen in an awkward position half bent over his clothing. “But I…” _thought I could scent it some more for you_ remained unsaid, because Dick growled at him.

“NO!”

Putting his hands up in a gesture of surrender, he carefully backed away from the room. There was no arguing with a nesting omega, especially if said nesting omega happened to be Dick Grayson.

To be honest, what was required of Jason at this point was to look menacingly (done) and scare away all the terrestrial and extra-terrestrial beings closing in on his territory (so, pigeons on the fire escape and yes, done). It didn’t stop his alpha from getting antsy, though. Jason felt like he should be doing something _more_ , but the flat was scrubbed clean, plants didn’t need watering and there was no use cooking elaborate dishes just yet – his _houseguest_ wouldn’t be eating anything for the next two days.

Eventually, he slumped on a couch with a book in his hand. He thought he might as well catch up on some reading (he was exploring pre-Romantic German literature to cleanse his palette), but was so distracted, he had to read each sentence four times to actually register its meaning.

Even more time passed. Dick had to be in the throes of heat by now, but remained as quiet as a church mouse. Not that Jason wasn’t thanking his lucky stars for being spared 48-hour-long, non-stop audio of a one-person orgy, but this was rather anticlimactic, not to mention worrying. Maybe Dick wasn’t comfortable enough in there? Maybe Jason ought to – his jaw clenched at the thought – _call Bruce_ or something? Then again, Dick didn’t want old Bat around this time.

Jason could also check on Dick himself and who knows – Dick might even tell him what was wrong, provided he wasn’t too far gone. With that in mind, for the second time that day, he opened the door just a smidge and looked inside.

Dick was asleep. He was also in heat, as one whiff of his scent, much stronger this close to the nest, told Jason – and yet, all he did was sleep.

Seriously, that was it? Sleeping soundly snuggled in soft blankets was what Dick considered _letting himself go_? Being on his _most vulnerable_?

…Unless he really did.

Come to think of it, Birdie was constantly on the clock, splitting his time between Mt Justice, Blüdhaven and half-assed attempts at keeping up his secret identity. He also had unfortunate penchant for unconsciously attracting dangerous bastards (like Deathstroke) and pathetic fuck-ups (like Wally West). It was well within the realm of possibility this peaceful slumber without a care in the world really was a luxury for both Dick and his omega; that something so basic really counted as most vulnerable, if not protected by a trusted alpha.

And if so, it was heart-breaking.

With his resolve strengthened, Jason grabbed a chair from the kitchen and put it right by the door to the spare room. He would sit here for whole two days if he had to, just like Bruce had done when Dick nested at the manor. He was given one job – to protect – so protect he would.

*

It wasn’t the noise that woke him up, it was the scent. It tickled his nose, heavy with sweetness of a fruit ripe and ready to be picked.

Oh, but the noises were there too. Rustle of fabrics was a backdrop to the breathless moans, helpless little cries. Jason could picture it all in his mind; blue eyes glazed over with need, long lines of the strong, lean body against all that red and every move, every twist rubbing his scent on Dick’s golden skin. Jason viciously wished it would seep through the pores down to his tissues, impossible to wash away. Did it drive him mad, he wondered, the scent of an alpha who was not his father? Did it make his chase for pleasure more urgent? Did it make him more desperate to be filled and taken?

(Why, why, his alpha lamented, would he use those cheap toys, when Jason was right here, willing to do anything to please him?)

He didn’t know when he stood up and pushed his chair aside. His mind could only comprehend the _here_ and _now_ , as he rested his forehead against the door, getting as close to the omega as he dared. He listened in, greedy for every little sound.

An audible gasp breaking through a string of moans had Jason thinking about Dick’s back arching and toes curling, and he felt his own body respond. Slowly, he dragged his hand down his torso and downward still, under the waistband of his shorts. _You shouldn’t be doing this_ , a small voice in still sane part of his mind disapproved. Jason knew it was all kinds of wrong, but his lungs were filled with Dick’s scent and the sensations it had brought – a spectacle of colour, excitement of a circus performance, thrill of free-falling, all imbued with sweetness – absolved him from guilt.

Closing his eyes, he let himself imagine.

* * *

Dick emerged from the spare room roughly two days later. His sudden appearance in all his swaddled-in-red glory startled Jason so badly, he almost dropped the coffee pot he was holding.

“Hey,” he hesitantly called, setting the coffee pot down. “Is it over?” He asked, taking in the sight of Dick. He was still wrapped in the quilt and sported bed hair to end all bed hair, but his eyes were sharp and aware.

Dick nodded, adjusted his grip on his duffle bag and made a beeline for the bathroom.

Okay, so he didn’t feel like talking just yet. In such cases, the Omega’s Health magazine (that Red Hood had most certainly not been caught reading by his men during a smoke break) advised a relaxing bath, then a hearty meal to replenish energy lost during heat. Since Birdie seemed fine with just a shower, judging by the sound of running water, Jason opened the fridge and set about making something greasy and packed with carbs.

He was mostly done, when bathroom door clicked open.

“Sorry, I got your quilt dirty. And other stuff too.”

 _Don’t worry about it_ , was what he wanted to say, but the moment he rose his eyes from the scrambled eggs he was making to Dick’s face, Jason’s mind did an equivalent of a keyboard smash and instead of letting anything out, he sucked in a breath and possibly his tongue too.

Dick was always beautiful and graceful, but right now, in clean clothes and fresh out of his heat, raising his hands up and stretching his back, he was fucking radiant. He had an honest to god glow about him; how that was even possible; Jason had not been trained to deal with this; he had not authorised this; life was terrible and unfair; **_NO_**.

And also – why, oh _why_ wasn’t he wearing his helmet right now?! Jason didn’t know what exactly was happening to his face right now, but had a feeling it was _spectacular_.

He needed to pour a bucket of icy water on his head.

“Jay? I think the eggs are burning.”

Aw fuck.

Dick sniggered, because of course he found that funny. Jason threw a kitchen rag at him in retaliation.

They ended up eating together and if listening in on Dick taking care of himself these past two days was… difficult (and that, in Jason’s books, was a new definition of understatement), then sitting across the table from him in such a domestic setting was a special kind of torture. Dick put his scent-blocking patches back on, but that only made Jason’s own scent, stubbornly clinging to his skin, all the more obvious. Having him so close, so fucking beautiful, smelling like him – it made Jason terribly flustered. But Red Hood, the crime lord of Gotham, getting flustered like as schoolgirl with a crush was embarrassing and pathetic, so he got angry too and anger made him revert to silent grumpiness.

Dick, bless him, didn’t comment on his sullen mood. In fact, he probably didn’t notice it all, busy as he was gorging himself on food. Throughout the meal he paid Jason attention only once and that was to ask, “do you have any cereal?”

Ladies and gentlemen, Dick Grayson.

Jason frowned. “Cereal’s not good for you right now.”

Dick groaned. “Oh my god, you sound like Alfred.”

Taking under consideration that alpha was supposed to take care of omega not only during, but straight after their heat too, and that the old butler has been taking excellent care of a whole brood of Bats for years, Jason decided to take that as a compliment.

*

Dick really wanted to stay and help clean up his nest, so much so that Jason had to literarily wrestle an armful of soiled blankets from him.

 _But Jay, that’s the least I can do_ , he said, fluttering his blue eyes. _Nope, the least would be making an honest alpha out of me and giving me your bite_ , Jason fortunately didn’t say, but it was a close call. One more minute in Dick’s presence and who knew what embarrassing shit he might blurt out. He was acting in the best interest of everyone involved, really, putting the duffle bag on Dick’s arm and handing him his sunglasses.

So there they were, standing by the door, and the awkwardness was back too, heavy in the air between them. They were looking at each other, but neither of them knew what to say.

Dick was the one who finally broke the impasse. He stepped closer – so close, Jason could count his eyelashes. His own scent on his skin was so strong, he feared to take a breath. Dick laid a hand on his arm – and Jason’s muscles twitched under the touch – climbed on his tiptoes and chastely kissed his cheek. “Thanks again, Jay.” Dick said, his warm breath washing over his ear. 

Next moment he was gone.

Jason thought that would be the end of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> There's not much, but feel free to say hi :D.


	4. Chapter 4

It wasn’t the end of it. 

After hours of moping about his flat like a miserable fuck he apparently was, hugging blankets and sniffing Dick’s scent on them mixed with his own, Jason finally snapped out of it. His alpha _wailed_ , not ready to let go just yet, but he grit his teeth and mercilessly stripped pillows and cushions of their cases, then dumped them into washing machine along with everything else. He aired the room, even lit up that fucking scented candle (he might as well get his money’s worth), then threw himself right back into his work. If Red Hood was even more vicious than usual, no one was stupid enough to say a word.

Two days later Black Mask and his goons were taken out of the picture. Permanently.

All that was left of that particular piece of garbage was a mess he had managed to create, in the form of two fat, semi-influential drug lords from Star City. Black Mask lured them with promises of team-ups and expansion of their respective business, most likely because similar offers had locals run the other way screaming. These poor bastards, however, obviously had no idea how things worked in Gotham and ate up all of the Black Mask’s bullshit. They even flew all the way from their safe haven to talk details, but instead of a sweet deal they got themselves front row seats to a carnage, courtesy of Red Hood and his men. To say that scared them shitless, would be an understatement.

They were now sitting across the table from Red Hood and surrounded by his men, acting high and mighty to draw attention from the shaking in their boots. But the tells where there for all to see; the guy on the left kept nervously fiddling with his golden chain, while the guy on the right tried and failed not to be bothered by a huge blood stain on his fedora hat. (There were also their scents, of cowering, inferior alphas, heavy in the air.) Red Hood found them mildly entertaining, which was why he had dragged them to one of his safehouses for this impromptu little meeting, rather than letting his AK47 do most of the talking right on the scene.

“Gentlemen, I am not an unreasonable man.” Red Hood said, genial smile hidden from sight but evident in his voice. His men pressing the barrels of their guns to the mobsters’ heads provided a delightful contrast with his words. “I could be persuaded to let you out of my city alive. But you know how it works. It’s gotta be quid pro quo.”

A look of dawning hope on their dumb faces morphed into that of blank incomprehension.

Got to spell it out for them, then. “You want out? I can make that happen. It’s only the matter of what you’re willing to offer that would be of interest to me.”

Now that they were on the same page things were finally bound to get interesting.

So of course that was when his comm buzzed to life. “Boss?”

“Hmm?” A hummed confirmative could be easily mistaken for a gentle encouragement for the mobsters to speak up.

“One of the bats breached the premises and is now moving towards your location.”

Goddammit.

He turned his face away and hissed under his breath. “Which one?” With the corner of his eye he noticed the newbie in his ranks catch his words – the standard line in by now familiar dialogue – and visibly perk up. In Gotham Underworld, bearing witness to the newest development in the family drama between Red Hood and the bats was considered a rite of passage.

“The little one.”

So it was the Demon Brat. Great. “Gentlemen, I’m afraid you have to excuse me now,” Red Hood said in his best gracious host voice. He made and hand gesture and his men all nodded. “We will finish this sometime later. In the meantime, my men will escort you to your temporary accommodation and keep you company.”

Heavy hands landed on the mobsters’ shoulders. The golden chain guy abandoned all pretences and squeaked, curling in on himself, but the fedora hat guy tapped into some hidden source of courage (or stupidity), leaning in and slamming his meaty fist on the table. “What?! Who do you think you are, Hood?! You can’t treat us like that, ya hear… -!”

He didn’t get to finish his line, though, as at that exact moment one of the windows was kicked open; a swirl of red and green and yellow flew through the air and before most men in Red Hood’s present company could even blink, cold steel of katana blade sliced through the table one millimetre away from the mobster’s fist. The guy shrieked like a lady in high heels at the sight of a mouse and jumped back, knocking his chair to the floor, then stumbled over his feet and fell on the floor himself.

Yep, definitely too fragile of heart to do business in Gotham.

Meanwhile, the golden chain guy became very enthusiastic about the prospect of armed men escorting him out. “Whatever time works best for you, Mr Hood!” He called, as he dragged his associate to his feet. Together they made a desperate dash for the door, hiding behind Red Hood’s men.

The gang newbie threw last longing look at the shitstorm about to happen, then cleared out too. 

And that left Red Hood alone with a murderous pre-teen in a cape.

“Hello, Al Ghul.” He said, because he felt like being nasty tonight.

“Todd!” Robin swirled his katana and pointed a finger at him. “You lecherous scoundrel!”

…What?

Where the fuck did _that_ come from and also, more broadly speaking, what the hell.

Plus, on the side note, where the fuck did the brat get his vocab from?! WHAT kind of reading materials was Bruce giving him and WHY was Alfred allowing that to happen?! He was willing to bet his favourite Glock that none of the Justice League’s glorified sidekicks or air-headed kids with silver spoons stuck up their asses at the Gotham Academy spoke like that!

“Go on,” he encouraged the kid, still sprawled in his chair. Some more details would be helpful and appreciated.

Drawing up to his full (not that impressive) height, Robin was a rightful fury impersonated. Very dramatic, Red Hood to give him that. “How dare you sully our omega!”

…The what now? He couldn’t help but gape at the brat, because what he had just said was so wrong in so many ways and on so many levels. “What?”

“Don’t even try to deny it!” Robin growled and charged.

To be fair, he did put up a decent fight, but Red Hood was just bigger and stronger, and more experienced. In a manner of seconds he had the brat thrown over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

“C’mon _pup_ , I’ll take you back to your dad.”

*

“I believe this is yours,” Red Hood dangled Robin in front of Batman’s (astonished) and Commissioner Gordon’s (terrified) faces. The kid finally ceased to struggle few rooftops ago and now hanged from Red Hood’s grip with his arms crossed and a sullen look on his face.

“Red Hood!” Gordon cried out and frantically felt for his gun. Cute.

“Calm down, Gordon, it’s –” Batman raised a placating hand.

It didn’t have much effect on the frenzied commissioner, though. “ **Red Hood**!” He choked out with more emphasis this time, as if he thought that Batman somehow failed to recognised the crime lord. He snapped his gaze from Red Hood to the vigilante and back, eyes bloodshot and crazed.

Man, somebody was in a dire need of vacation.

“It’s a personal matter. Please, give us some space.”

Gordon bulged his eyes at Batman. There was a silent conversation happening between the two of them in a language consisting sorely of the furrowing of brows and the twitching of facial muscles.

“Fine,” Gordon spat out the word and with one last glare in Red Hood’s direction turned to go back inside the building.

“Hey, commissioner!” He called over his shoulder. Gordon came to a dead stop, one hand on the door handle. “About Black Mask?” He let the silence grow ominous. “You’re welcome.”

Gordon’s shoulders tensed. Without a single word he threw the door open and disappeared inside the building. Rude.

He turned back to grim-faced Batman. “Your pup.” He remained him and ignoring the cry of _I am not a pup!_ shook the kid a little, as if to illustrate his point.

With a sigh, Batman grabbed the proffered cape and set the boy back on his feet. “Robin.” The ability to pack such an amount of pure, distilled disapproval could have only been gained under Alfred’s tutelage. “Go back to the Cave.”

Robin gaped in indignation, glaring up at his father. “But…!”

“NOW!”

The kid twisted his face in a weird expression, a cross between a pout and a glare. But what he could do – his pack alpha told him to go, so he snatched his grappler and swung himself to the next rooftop.

Red Hood and Batman both watched him go in silence.

“Just so you now,” Jason said conversationally, once the kid was out of their sight. “I didn’t ‘sully’ _your_ omega.”

“I know. I…” Batman worked his jaw something fierce. “Apologise for Robin.”

Wow.

Now that was one of the top 3 things Jason never thought he would hear said out loud, ever. It threw him off so much, he broke his self-imposed _don’t engage with the old Bat_ policy and blurted out what has been on his mind lately. “Not like it’s any of my business,” because it really wasn’t, “but what could possibly be so bad Birdie would rather go to a known criminal than one of the founding fathers of the Justice League?”

The white of Batman’s lenses narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Nightwing said you were fighting. That’s why he didn’t want to nest at your place.”

Batman’s lips turned down in a grimace.

“At this point, I think it might have less to do with our disagreement and more with Damian proposing to him.”

“…I’m sorry, what was that now?” He said, once his brain unfroze. The brat did what?

Batman sighed. “He didn’t phrase it as a question either. He marched up to Dick, who was making his nest at the time, and informed him they would get married once he’s of age.” It seemed the memory alone made Batman cringe. “Dick laughed it off and Alfred thought it was precious and cute, but next thing we knew, Dick was speeding on his way back to Blüdhaven, half-built nest left behind. I don’t think he went into heat ever since.”

There was just one crucial detail Jason had to confirm. “He didn’t say _get married_ , did he.”

“No,” Batman admitted and with exasperated sigh dragged a hand down his face. “He said _consume the nuptials_.”

Jason burst out laughing. Shit, that kid was gold. “Suppose it could’ve been worse.” He said with a huge grin on his face, once he got his breath under control. “He could’ve said they’d _tie the knot_ , if you know what I mean.”

Batman’s mouth was set in a grim line. “This is not funny.”

“Oh, I beg to differ.” He was sure Birdie would appreciate the pun – had it not involved him and the baby Wayne, that is. “Bet you didn’t give him the talk, huh?” If so, the brat’s head was filled with whatever bullshit passed as the birds and the bees-related content at the Al Ghuls and little else. No wonder Birdie’s omega freaked out. “You really should have, instead of another dictionary. Damn, you screwed up big time, Bat.”

Taking up a fuck-up on Bruce’s side and rubbing it in was a very special kind of pleasure and the man himself being completely aware of the extend of his failure made it all the better. Oh, beautiful moment, do not pass away!*

Bruce looked he wanted to say something, but caught himself at the last moment. He pressed his lips even tighter in his own, emotionally-stunted version of fretting.

Jason tilted his head. “What is it?”

“Is he alright?”

Jason carefully considered. Bruce saw Dick as his own child, an omega one at that. As far as Jason knew, Dick had never before nested away from the manor and the protection of his pack alpha. Bruce was bound to take it harder than he was willing to show.

“Yeah, he is.” He answered truthfully. He was a crime lord, not an asshole. “You know I wouldn’t let anything happen to him.”

“Is he going to spend his heat with you again?”

Wouldn’t Jason like to know that too. (Wouldn’t he like his alpha to shut up and stop wailing that the omega _left_.) He shrugged and settled for quoting an old saying. “Omega wants what omega wants.” Meaning, only omega had any say in these matters and once their mind was made, it could not be swayed.

Jason would be perfectly happy to leave it at that, but Bruce, now that he got in touch with his fatherly feelings, wasn’t ready to call it a night.

“I worry about you.”

Jason groaned.

“Both of you,” Bruce clarified. If his pained expression was anything to go by, he wasn’t thrilled to be having this conversation either, but due to some misguided sense of duty barrelled through with it anyway. “A lot can happen it the… heat of the moment.”

Look who was making bad puns now. And also, “where are you going with this?” Jason had his suspicions and he didn’t like single one of them.

“And omegas often can’t control what they are doing.” _Or whom they are biting_ , Jason’s mind supplied, filling in the blank. “I don’t want either of you to wake up the morning after, when the haze is lifted, and have regrets.”

Jason scowled. It sounded awfully like, “you sayin’ I’m not good enough for him?”

“No, that is not –”

“Then what, pray tell, _are_ you saying?!”

“– that at the end of the day you are still a crime lord!”

“And he’s a vigilante,” Jason retorted, not missing a beat. “Not looked at favourably by the law either.” With the exception of Gotham and Blüdhaven, but law didn’t mean much in those cities to begin with.

Bruce, it seemed, grew tired beating about the bush. “Alright then, I’m saying you are a murderer!”

Jason drew in sharp breath. He couldn’t believe it; that particular can of worms was a completely separate issue between them and yet Bruce went and opened it right then and there.

“Oh, so it’s not about Nightwing and I, after all. It’s about Black Mask, isn’t?” Figures. Red Hood taking that scumbag out was probably the reason old Bat was being chummy with Gordon.

And to think Jason felt for him for a second there.

Bruce didn’t deny it.

Okay then. If Bruce was allowed to open one can of worms, why shouldn’t Jason do the honours with another? “How about we make it about Joker too?!” He growled, closing his fists. Cold fury rose within him, like the Pit- _green_ swallowing the edges of his vision.

“Jason –”

Nope. He was done. He didn’t want to deal with this shit right now – or ever – and the beauty of not being in Bat’s pack anymore was that _he didn’t have to_. “Fuck you, Bruce!” He spat out and stormed away.

* * *

Now _that_ for sure had been the end of it, thought Jason later that night, as he sat down on the edge of his favourite rooftop and dug his pockets in search for a pack of cigarettes. He just wanted to manly brood over life with night view of Gotham laid before his feet and only grotesque gargoyles for company.

But of course, fate had other plans.

Nightwing flipped through the air and landed on one of said gargoyles, graceful as always. One more jump and there he was, inviting himself to sit next to him. “Hi.”

Jason light up his cigarette and took a deep drag to avoid talking, if only for few more seconds.

Nightwing didn’t find this less than cordial welcome daunting. “I heard what happened. I wanted to apologise for Damian and whatever it was that B said to you.”

Wow, Bats were really into confronting him and apologising tonight. Jason wanted to say something starchy like that in response, but then looked at Nightwing with the corner of his eye and thought better of it. The vigilante’s hair was wind-tousled and his face flushed – could it be he had rushed here all the way from Blüdhaven, just for this little talk? It didn’t seem plausible, but still, Jason felt oddly touched.

He slowly exhaled a cloud of smoke. “Turned down any proposals lately?”

Nightwing punched his arm, hard. “Go fuck yourself.”

His face split with a shit-eating grin. “Aww, but then I would miss you two _tying the knot_.”

“Oh my god,” Nightwing groaned and hid his face in his palms. A moment later, though, he peeked at him and admitted, “that would be funny, if it was about literarily anyone else.”

 _Knew it_ , Jason mentally patted himself on the back. He felt his tense muscles slowly relax.

“Hey,” the Nightwing whispered few minutes later, breaking the comfortable silence between them. Even though his baby blues were hidden under his domino mask, once Jason turned his head to face him, he found he couldn’t look away. “It was very generous of you to let me intrude upon you like that. And it was nice to hang out with you too.” His lips curled up a sad smile that Jason honestly hated. “But if you’d rather not have anything to do with me after _that_ …”

Oh for the love of -! “Cut the crap, Birdie. You know damn well no one but you have any say in this. You want to nest at my place again?”

Wordlessly, he nodded.

“Then text me when it’s time,” he said firmly with a mental _fuck you Bruce_ , because it bore repeating.

Nightwing’s face brightened up with a real smile this time. His alpha couldn’t help but preen a little, proud to be the one who put it there.

“Thanks Jay.” He leaned closer and laid a chaste kiss on his cheek. Damnit, Jason just knew he was blushing. “I will.” Nightwing promised, then flew back into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Sincere apologies to all German readers for misusing a quote from the Goethe's _Faust_.
> 
> So yeah. As sweet and considerate Jason and Bruce are as alphas, they are still who they are.  
>  ~~Please, don't tear me apart.~~
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> There's not much, but feel free to say hi :D.


	5. Chapter 5

The time came surprisingly soon. 

Jason couldn’t say he was privy to the inner workings of Dick’s omega circle, but he vaguely remembered him visiting the manor for _that_ no more often than every three months. And yet barely few weeks after their heartfelt conversation on the rooftop with only gargoyles as their witnesses, Jason was getting a flood of text messages followed by a panicked phone call from very apologetic Dick. His heat was already coming, he said, a lot earlier than he expected.

That piece of information alone could make Jason drop the pimp he was currently beating up and rush to his flat, but when delivered by Dick himself during a phone call it had all the potential to send him into protective alpha overdrive. As it was, Jason was one brain cell away from snatching the omega away from the shithole commonly known as Blüdhaven to the safety of his own territory (preferably in a bridal carry ~~and Dick would be so impressed with Jason he would call him _his hero_ and maybe even give him his bite~~), but Dick somehow managed to talk him out of this plan. Which, by the way, Jason still thought was very solid and reasonable, thank you very much. 

With that decided and out of the way, though, they were able to move on to the next item on the agenda – a round of mutual reassurances. Jason repeated again and again that no, Dick was not being an inconvenience; Dick for the umpteenth time said that yes, he was sure he could get to Jason’s place by himself; losing his temper Jason growled that for fuck’s sake no, Dick shouldn’t apologise for going into heat, be it too early, too late or too whatever; Dick confirmed trice that yes, first thing in the morning was perfect, and yes, he could wait that long, and yes, he would see Jason then, and no, not in _Blüdhaven_ , because yes, he was coming over to Jason’s place _in_ _Gotham_ , and yes, he was going to do it by himself. And yes, he was sure. For the duration of this whole conversation Jason was squeezing his burner cell phone in his left hand, so hard it squeaked under the pressure, and in his right one – the pimp’s throat. He tightened his hold on it every once in a while in a warning, to make sure the scumbag would keep his mouth shut.

Once Dick said his good-byes, Jason hit the end call button and fluidly transitioned the motion into a punch. The whimpering mess of a pimp howled in pain, and then howled some more, as Red Hood relaxed the grip on his throat and let him fall to the ground. 

"I trust we reached an understanding." Red Hood crouched next to the pimp and grabbed a fistful of his hair. He jerked his head closer to look him in the eye. "Didn't we."

Pimp frantically nodded, the blood oozing from his nose mixing with the tears running down his face. Some snot might have been thrown there into the mix too. Yep, this one would not dare to bother working girls at the Crime Alley again anytime soon.

“Excellent.” Red Hood let go off his hair with disgust, standing up from his crouching position. As a parting gift, he delivered one more kick; just a little something extra, because he was feeling generous.

A flock of grateful ladies sent his off with a chorus of _thanks a lot, Hood!_

*

Sun was barely peaking over the horizon when Jason sat down on the stair by the front entrance to his block of flats. Strictly speaking, it was completely unnecessary – he could be waiting for Dick in the comfort of his own flat, not on the street – but he felt restless. There was some nervous energy coursing just beneath his skin, putting him on edge and his alpha was temperamental, not liking at all the idea of Dick coming over here all by himself. Alone, just before his heat, when he was vulnerable, finding his way through a city full of perverts. 

Though, to be fair, Gotham this early in the morning was as safe as it would ever be. Criminals were asleep, all the bats were asleep too and homicidal maniacs were still busy working on the victims they had caught at night. Up and about were only bakers, waste collectors and the elderly unable to sleep in. Neither logic nor common sense, however, mattered much to a worried alpha.

There wasn’t even any cleaning left for Jason to do, as his flat was in pristine condition. How could it not, when he’d been coming there every two days to obsessively scrub every nook and cranny spotless _just in case_? It was a scientifically-proven, if little known fact, after all, that omegas who have just found a new nesting space tended to be a bit overeager. Jason himself came across it in the Journal of Omega Behavioural Science he most certainly did not pour over on his free afternoons in the Gotham University Medical Library and NOBODY COULD SAY OTHERWISE (what, proof? Footage from the CCTV camera by the entrance? Like, it surely still exists? _Pfffff, cute_ ).

Jason spotted him as soon as he rounded the corner. Even dressed in an oversized blue hoodie in an effort to look unassuming and hiding his eyes behind his favourite high-pointed triangle sunglasses, Dick was still so ridiculously pretty that looking at him felt like taking a punch to the gut. Two bin men across the street seemed to agree with him on that point, for they were gaping at Dick too. They stood still, hugging trash cans like teddy bears to their chests, seemingly having forgotten what they were supposed to be doing with them.

The casual glamour was marred, though, as Dick kept massaging the glands on the sides of neck over his scent-blocking patches.

So he was _that_ close to his heat, huh? Damn it, why didn’t Birdie said so when they were talking earlier?! (He knew he should have dragged him out of fucking Blüdhaven as soon as he got that phone call!)

With renewed sense of urgency, Jason jogged up to his side. “Hey.” He took care to block the view of the bin men with his own bulk; like hell was he gonna allow those fuckers to gawk at his Birdie. “You okay?” He wasn’t fretting, okay? He was just making a polite conversation, like Alfred had insisted was proper.

Dick took off his sunglasses and looked up Jason with a relieved smile playing on his lips. “Now I am.”

…There words. No, scratch that, _there fucking syllables_ and Jason’s stomach was now a home to a kaleidoscope of butterflies.

How, WHY?! How come Dick was able to just throw shit like that, so casually, like he had no idea what it was doing to Jason?!

He couldn’t even. It was literary impossible to can.

“Yeah.” It came out surprisingly high-pitched, so he quickly cleared his throat. He could feel his cheeks heating up. Shit. “Let’s go.”

Fortunately, Dick was gracious enough to let it slide without a single snicker. He only glanced up at him, blue eyes bright with amusement, and allowed Jason to put a hand on the small of his back, as they walked to the building. When Dick wasn’t looking Jason turned his head and glared at the bin men. Eye contact established, he made his intentions towards them known with universally recognisable gestures – pointing his finger at them, then drawing it over his throat.

(Bin men suddenly felt very enthusiastic about their work.)

Jason didn’t think any omega right on the cusp of their heat, even one that flew the city at night in spandex and kevlar on regular basis, would be happy about taking the stairs all the way up to the fifth floor, so he steered Dick straight to the lift. Once in there, he held the doors open for few more seconds. He thought he heard his eighty-something year old neighbour trudging her way, leaning heaving over her walker.

“Hello Nancy.” He called.

“Good day to you too.” The old lady screeched back, picking up her pace. She smiled at Jason, showing off rows of her new prosthetic teeth, then cursed with feeling in foreign language, as the closing door bumped her walker. “Would you be a dearie and press third for me?”

He obediently pushed the button.

The old lady finally noticed Dick’s uncharacteristically quiet presence. She looked him up and down through the thick lenses of her glasses. “And who might you be?” She inquired, not unkindly. “I haven’t seen you here before.”

So apparently pre-heat Dick wasn’t that much of a social butterfly. Instead of charming the pants off the elderly lady, like he had done with every single person he had ever met, he curled in on himself and remained silent.

Jason gently inserted himself between them. “It’s cool, Nancy. He’s with me.”

“Oh.” Nancy took in his protective stance, then looked at the duffle bag on Dick’s shoulder, up at the scent-blocking patches on his neck, then back at Jason. “ _Ooooooh_.” Her chapped lips curled in a lecherous grin that had no business being on a face of a sweet, elderly lady like her. “ _I see_.”

Jason felt a pang cold dread settling low in his stomach. “No, you don’t!” He fervently denied. As nice and grandmotherly as she was, Nancy firmly believed that at her age she was allowed to say whatever shit she felt like saying. This could be savage.

And Nancy didn’t disappoint. She moved with her walker a bit to the side to get a better look at Dick. “You have great taste.” She screeched at him in that good-natured, _gotta embarrass my grandson_ way of hers. “Our Jay here is a good boy and a strong alpha. He’ll give you healthy pups.”

Dick choked on air.

But she wasn’t done yet. Next, she turned to Jason and patted him on the arm. “And aren’t you lucky a pretty omega like him is interested! Better cram down some meat for energy. Eat some liver, so you better deliver.” She started cackling at her own joke.

Jason wanted to die.

Mercifully, the door pinged open for the third floor.

“Be safe boys!” Nancy tightened her hold on her walker and trudged out of the lift. “And remember!” She looked at them over her shoulder. “Keep hydrated.” Her conspiratorial wink was the last thing they saw before the door whooshed closed leaving them alone, in silence, traumatised for life and unable to look at each other.

“How about we never ever talk about it?” Jason asked tentatively.

“No complaints from me.” Dick choked out his answer.

Neither of them said anything after that, but Jason could have sworn he felt Dick’s thoughtful gaze like pinpricks on the back of his neck all the way to the door of his flat.

*

The moment he stepped inside Jason’s place Dick was a flurry of activity. He peeled off his scent-blocking patches while kicking off his shoes, then ran around the flat gathering an armful of cushions. His constant movement filled the air with his scent in a matter of seconds and with air, Dick’s scent filled Jason’s lungs in a matter of a single breath. Once in there, it sent a spark of excitement down his bloodstream to every cell in Jason’s body, stirring that young and eager thing in his chest awake – and it responded with a cry of joy, because _omega came back_.

Some of these sensations seeped into his conscious mind and had Jason giddy with barely contained excitement. He rushed to gather an armful of clothes he purposely hadn’t washed, _just in case_ , and offered them to Dick feeling stupidly proud of himself. “Do you need anything else?” He asked, desperate to accommodate even most outlandish requests. More clothes? Done. A kidney? Hold his copy of _Persuasion_ and give him half an hour, and yes, done. The moon and the stars? Jason was sure he could have it arranged.

Dick gave him a grateful smile, but shied away from eye contact. “Nah, I’m good.” His cheeks were dusted with red. “I should, um. Prepare.” Dick peeked up at him through his lashes and like a crash of lightning the awkwardness between them was back, full force and echoing the cackle of Jason’s elderly neighbour.

Even though Jason had thought Dick many things over the years – beautiful, charming, the only omega he had ever desired just to name a few – _fertile_ was never a word he had associated with the first boy wonder. And it seemed that _virile_ wasn’t a word Dick associated with Jason either, but now that they had it spelt out to them, they could no longer ignore the fact that was exactly whom the both respectively were – a virile alpha and a fertile omega. On a virile alpha’s territory. With a fertile omega about to go into heat very soon.

Fuck, this was awkward.

Nancy, the old hag, just couldn’t keep her mouth shut, could she?! What if she spooked Dick so badly, he does the vanishing act again, jumps out of the window or whatever and runs back to Blüdhaven, never to nest on Jason’s territory again?! Should that prove to be the case, like hell would he agree to move Nancy’s furniture, not now, not ever!

(What was even worse, his alpha was extremely interested in this _fertile omega business_ and quite desperate to prove just how _virile_ he was.)

“Sure, sure.” Jason nodded sagely. Resolutely looking down at his own feet, he thrusted a bundle of his clothes at Dick. Their fingers brushed, because of course they fucking did, and he heard Dick’s breath hitch. He risked a glance up at his face, but the vigilante was already moving away, clutching the clothes to his chest.

“See you,” he said with a somewhat shaky smile and closed the door to the spare room with an air of finality.

Jason rested his head against its wooden surface with a dull _thud_. _Mind of the gutter, Todd_ , he told himself.

*

As it turned out, Dick wasn’t nearly as spooked as Jason feared he would be and so didn’t jump out of the window to run back to the manor, where the Demon Brat would already have been waiting with another confession and maybe promise rings too… Jason was getting off the track. The point was, Dick made his nest and was now asleep surrounded with Red Hood’s colour. Things were progressing the way they should and that meant Jason could breathe a sigh of relief.

That is, until something weird happened.

It was around noon. Jason was sitting on the floor, resting his back against the door. With his third cup of coffee (he jumped into this guarding duty right after a whole night of work) and a book in his hands (he was moving east, giving 20th century Russian literature a try), he was enjoying the peace and quiet while it lasted. He knew that soon he would inevitably loose his goddamn mind listening to the so many sounds of Dick _going at it_ , taking turns with every single one of his brightly-coloured and anatomically incorrect dildos, but for now everything was right in the world and Jason was quite content with his place in the grand scheme of things.

Next second he was falling backwards, because the door were thrown open.

A regular person would end up sprawled on the floor, but then again, Jason could hardly be called an average Joe. Instincts taking over, he caught himself on one hand and grabbed a gun from behind his waistband with the another. He flipped around and clicked the safety off. Whomever the bastard trespassing on his territory and bothering his omega was, he would fuckin’ BLAST THEIR BRAINS OUT…!

Blinking down at him, swaddled in folds of red fabric, was none other than Dick himself.

Jason quickly lowered his hand and set the gun aside, feeling very young and stupid. He clenched his jaw, awaiting a scratchy quip followed by a bout of snickers that would have him pray for the floor to open and swallow him whole, but surprise, surprise! It never came.

He rose an eyebrow. He was no glutton for humiliation, but… “Birdie?” He asked carefully. Maybe something was wrong. Maybe he wanted to go back to Blüdhaven, after all.

Dick blinked, but didn’t say a word.

Jason considered. Fashion choice aside, Dick’s brilliant blue eyes looked rather glassy and glazed-over to him. He discretely scented the air around him and yep, Birdie was definitely in heat, alright.

 _So what was he doing wandering around?!_ Omegas stayed _in_ their nests, not _out_ of them, for the whole duration of their heats. That was the purpose of making them in the first place! He wracked his brain trying to come up with any plausible explanation for Dick’s bizarre behaviour, but it provided him only with a visualisation of empty spaces to the soundtrack of white noises.

Also, it slowly dawned on Jason that standing in front of him right now wasn’t a Dick Grayson he was used to, but a version of him stripped down to the most basic needs. Being stared down by an incarnation of Birdie’s unbridled desires was, honesty speaking, rather intimidating.

“…Do you need something?” He ventured a question.

Dick scowled.

Okay, so now Jason was officially panicking, because what the actual fuck, Dick’s unbridled desires were scowling at him. Was this some sort of omega psychosis Birdie’s developed and neglected to warn him about? Jason hoped not. He sure as hell was not trained to deal with shit like that.

But Dick seemed to grow tired of whatever this was even about and stepped back into the spare room, firmly closing the door behind him.

…Yeah. So Jason guessed that happened.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to shake off a strange sense of unease, like an annoying itch that couldn’t be scratched. ( _You fucked something up somehow somewhere_ , his alpha was insistent, if rather vague, _and now the omega is displeased_.) He reassumed his earlier position, sitting on the floor, back resting against the door, with a book in one hand and a cup of cooling coffee in another, when synapses in his brain finally snapped in just the right way and in a sudden epiphany Jason remembered the famous story of a French princess and a lowly knight.

It went something along those lines: the princess was an omega and she took a shine to an alpha knight. Chivalrous and strong like a bull? Check and check, but if taken under consideration was his standing in the royal court, then the knight was basically a nobody. Father of the princess – aka the king – was obviously not pleased, as he hoped to marry his daughter off to strengthen political alliances. Yet his wayward child kept **_wandering away from her nest when in heat_** , looking for a way to the knight’s quarters. So one day the king finally kind of lost it and ordered the princess to be locked up in a chamber without windows, but equipped with a lovely set of iron-strengthened doors, for the whole duration of her heat.

That was where the story really got interesting, as princess, delicate and scrawny thing that she was rumoured to be, with a waist cinched so tight it was a wonder she could breathe at all – that princess kicked the doors open, beat up to a bloody pulp every single heavily armed guard who stood in her way and stormed the knight’s quarters to get to the alpha she liked and into his pants. Poor guy apparently feared for his life, because princess almost tore off a chuck of his flesh, when she gave him her bite.

Her father was obviously neither pleased nor supportive. In fact, he decided that beheading the knight was the only possible solution to the problem, so he grabbed his sword and set off to do the deed himself. The moment princess spotted him, however, she pushed the dazed (and naked) knight behind her tiny (and equally naked) back, whilst she growled at the king like a rabid bloodhound, blood dripping from her teeth and down her chin. Unsurprisingly, his highness experienced a sudden and profound change of heart, declaring that a knight with only a sword to his name was exactly the fresh blood royal family needed and made haste to vacant the premises.

After that, kings and queens everywhere always prayed for at least one beta offspring. They at least could be reasoned with.

The story was of course grossly exaggerated, but a famous saying was rooted in its moral – omega wants what omega wants, and if you disapprove of what omega wants, then god have mercy on your soul, because omega won’t.

Jason looked over his shoulder at the door. Dick was no princess, but…

He violently shook his head. “Mind of the gutter, Todd!”

*

Jason woke up with a start.

He could have sworn he had sat down on the couch just a minute ago, early in the evening, expecting Dick to march out of the spare room any second now and reduce him to incoherent mess with his radiant beauty. But early evening morphed into late at night while he slept, the flat was dark and Dick was nowhere to be seen.

He rubbed his eyes, trying to get rid of his drowsiness. What was it that woke him up, again?

“Jay…?” Dick’s voice called weakly.

He was up on his feet and moving before he even knew it. Jason threw the door open and felt the wall for a light switch. Careful not to lay his eyes on something he would rather live his life never seeing ever, he walked inside the room.

“Hey.” He crouched by the nest. “What is it?” He asked, a bit breathless.

A pair of blue eyes was peeking at him from a cocoon of red quilt and blankets. They were glazed-over and glassy still – a dead giveaway that Dick’s heat was going on strong, instead of dwindling down. Then, there was his scent, filling the air with all the sensation it has always evoked in Jason, but now carrying unfamiliar undertone of too-sweet, bordering on... sour.

What was going on?

“C’mon, you need some water.” He said softly. When in doubt, it was best to stick to the basics and omegas in heat were notoriously bad at keeping up the minimal required fluid intake.

Dick reluctantly sat up. A piece of blanket slid down, exposing his tired face and chapped lips – definitely dehydrated. Since he made no move to accept the proffered bottle, Jason uncapped it himself and held to his lips. Dick drank about half of it, before turning his face away.

“Okay.” It wasn’t okay at all, but he said so anyway, taking the bottle away and setting it down within easy reach of the nest. So Dick’s heat would last longer this time around. It happened sometimes for no apparent reason. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Still, Jason didn’t like the look of it. “Make sure to drink the rest of it later, alright?”

No response. That at least was no surprise; omegas in heat weren’t exactly sought-after conversationalists.

He was about to get up and go buy a full subscription to the Journal of Omega Behavioural Studies – he obviously lacked the knowledge of some crucial heat-related issues – but a weak tug on his T shirt stopped him.

“What is it, Birdie?”

Dick didn’t answer. He didn’t let go either.

“Do you want it?” He asked carefully, gesturing to his shirt. Maybe he hadn’t scented his clothes properly this time and too weak a smell couldn’t sufficiently comfort the omega? If so, why didn’t Dick say anything earlier? He was bound to notice that, when working on his nest.

Dick remained silent.

Thinking that to be the problem at hand, Jason took the shirt off, mindful not to jostle Dick’s grip too much. “It’s alright, you can have it.” He gently encouraged, so to not spook him.

Blue eyes flickered from the shirt up to Jason’s face, shimmering with an inexplicable emotion. His alpha recognised it anyway, on some deep, unconscious level, and it _grieved_ him.

Dick snatched the shirt up to his face and flopped down, burrowing himself under blankets.

His alpha ached to crawl into the nest and take care of him in any way he might need, but it wasn’t Jason’s place. Dick didn’t invite him there. Dick didn’t ask _that_ of him.

So what else could he possibly do?

* * *

The heat lasted four days in total, twice as long as it should.

It was late afternoon when Dick finally stumbled out of the spare room, still wrapped in the red quilt. Jason took one look and him and sat him down on a chair. Deaf to _it’s not necessary Jay_ , he set about running him a bath, then bodily carried Dick to the bathroom and placed him amongst the bubbles.

For all his reluctance, Dick stayed in the bathroom so long Jason feared he might have drown.

When he finally emerged from there, he was a far cry from the radiant beauty who had turned Jason into incoherent mess few weeks ago. In a completely one-eighty, the Dick of there and then looked tired and listless, and it broke Jason’s heart. It was as clear as a day that this heat wasn’t a good experience for him.

Hoping it might cheer him up at least a little, Jason served him cereal (his favourite brand, no less!) but Dick only stirred it mournfully with his spoon. He propped up his chin on one palm and sighed.

Jason couldn’t take it anymore. Steeling his resolve to face even the ugliest truth, he finally addressed the elephant in the room – and no, he didn’t mean that old plushie of Dick’s and what a weirdly obscene sight it made, stuffed in the duffle bag between all those dildos.

“So, that was irregular.” He wanted to slap himself before he even finished talking, because wow, great way to tactfully approach a difficult subject. And he wondered why Bruce never took him to fund raisers back in his days as Robin.

Dick let go of the spoon. It hit the edge of the cereal bowl with a dull _clang_. “Yeah.”

Jason hid his hands under the table and clenched them into fists. “Did I… do something wrong?” He asked, anxiety churning in the pit of his stomach. It could be a reason, right? Dick’s heat being too long and unfulfilling, because Jason failed to sufficiently provide him with comfort like a trusted alpha should. Like Bruce had never failed to.

 _Figures_ , he thought. He fucked up, like everyone always presumed he would, about everything, because he had been sent to a juvie once.

“Oh my god, no!” Dick fervently denied, as if he had heard Jason’s thoughts. “Please, don’t say that. I promise, you did nothing wrong.” His blue eyes were so earnest, his voice so full of conviction that in spite of himself Jason felt his tense muscles relax. His alpha’s anxious fretting lessened somewhat too, meaning he could breathe easier.

“You were perfect, Jay.”

(…Okay, now Jason couldn’t breathe for completely different reasons.)

Dick tiredly rubbed his brow. “It’s my omega that’s acting weird.” He stirred his soggy cereal again and finally, _finally_ took a bite.

“You gonna see anyone about it?” Jason carefully inquired. So maybe it was none of his business, but he was worried, dammit!

Dick nodded. He ate another spoonful of cereal.

“Okay,” he said, relieved.

Dick slowly pushed the bowl away. “Sorry,” he gave Jason a sheepish smile. “I don’t think I can handle more than that.”

Despite Dick’s reassurances Jason still felt terrible. And maybe it showed on his face, because instead of giving him a good-bye peck on the cheek Jason had kind of come to expect (what? It was nice!), Dick moved even closer and hugged him.

Everything in Jason _stopped_. For all he knew, the whole planet might have stopped spinning at that moment.

“I’ll keep in touch, okay?” Dick said. As he spoke, his lips brushed against his chest through the fabric of his shirt, an unintentional caress. Jason felt goose bumps rise all over his body.

He dumbly nodded. He didn’t need to test his vocal cords to know they wouldn’t be working right now.

“Please, don’t beat yourself up over something that’s not your fault.”

Fuck, no. No! Jason should be the one comforting Birdie, not the other way around. He forced his the muscles in his arms to _move_ and finally they did, wrapping Dick in his embrace. Just for one second, he let himself marvel at the difference in their build – Dick’s lean body of acrobat against his own bulk. With just one breath, he allowed himself to smell his own scent on Dick’s skin and enjoy the thrill it gave him.

“Pot kettle, Birdie.” He murmured, his words heavy with meaning but without any heat.

Dick kicked him in the shin. “Shut up.”

A soft chuckle escaped Jason’s lips. Now that was more like his Birdie.

Dick made a move to untangle himself from their embrace and step away. Jason really didn’t want to let him go just yet, or ever. But alas, needs must.

“You sure you’re okay getting back to Blüdhaven by yourself?” He asked, letting his hands fall to his sides.

Dick shouldered his duffle bag. “Yeah, don’t worry.”

But he did worry. Dick left and Jason spent five minutes glaring at the closed door, trying to convince himself that he _didn’t_ , but to no avail. His mind only came up with countless scenarios, each one more terrifying than the next, of all the terrible things that could happen to his Birdie in his weakened state on the way from Jason’s flat to his place in Blüdhaven.

To hell with it, he decided then. It was his business, because he fucking _cared_.

He grabbed a red hoodie, his favourite Glock and then he was on his bike, speeding down the route to Blüdhaven. He caught up with Dick fairly quickly, but he didn’t engage, opting instead to tail him at respectable distance through the streets of Gotham and then that shithole he called his city. Just to make sure.

It was only once the lights in Dick’s flat were turned on, that he turned his bike around and drove back to Gotham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope the hints I'm dropping aren't too vague. Also, how did this chapter get so long 😱?
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> There's not much, but feel free to say hi :D.


	6. Chapter 6

“Boss?”

“Hmmm?” Red Hood hummed to his comm, never taking his eyes off the shipment of illegal weapons. He was gifted them by the Loser of the East Side – oh _pardon_ , it didn’t come out right. He _confiscated_ them from the _bloody morons_ of the East Side, who intended to sell them with huge interest and no 40 percent kicked up to Red Hood. And they honestly believed he wouldn’t find out.

It was so stupidly naïve it wasn’t even cute anymore.

Long story short, the morons were now, in the true sense of that word, _bloody_ and probably still lying unconscious where he had left them in the Gotham docks, while the whole shipment went to his base and hot cash would soon go straight into his pocket.

Tonight was a good night.

Comm guy sounded weirdly earnest with a touch of glee. “There’s someone here to see you.”

With the corner of his eye Red Hood spied his men whispering amongst themselves with excitement. He frowned. Tonight was good, but not _that_ good. Something was going on and he didn’t like not knowing what exactly that something might be.

“In the meeting room.” Comm guy clarified, when Red Hood failed to respond.

Meeting room, as his men affectionately called it, was a place where he dragged the scumbags that crossed him for interrogation and, depending on his mood, smashing their heads into the table or into the wall (and on one memorable occasion through the wall). Coincidently, it was the furthest away room from his present location and his newest business opportunity.

“Like who?” Red Hood’s frown deepened, as he noticed the gang newbie set off running somewhere. Were these fuckers thinking of mutiny or some shit? Because if they were, they were dead meat, loath as he was to off them.

“Best if you’d hurry up, boss!”

The hell was the comm man playing at, not giving him a straight answer?! His hands moved on their own according, coming to rest on his thing holsters.

One of his lieutenants rushed to his side, suspiciously out of breath. “It’s cool, boss,” he wheezed. “We’ve got it covered, but better not keep them waiting.”

…The actual fuck?

To add to his confusion, comm guy buzzed in again. “Boss?”

Out of habit, he grunted an affirmative.

“Just a thought,” the guy hesitated. “But maybe do something about the blood stains before you go.”

*

Red Hood was striding down the corridor, when his mysterious guest in the meeting room apparently lost it, as on top of their lungs they bellowed, “for the last time, **no** , I don’t want any milk!”

He blinked in surprise. The choice of words alone was enough to raise an eyebrow, especially given the context of sitting in Red Hood’s interrogation slash torture space, but that voice sounded strangely familiar. Like one Dick Grayson, from whom he hadn’t heard a word this whole passed week following the heat and about whom – if he were to be absolutely honest with himself – he was worried sick.

Suddenly impatient, he fastened his stride and kicked the door open. And gaped. And then deadpanned the sentence he was doomed to repeat a lot tonight, it seemed. “What the fuck.”

He didn’t know what he expected, but it sure as hell wasn’t a very flustered Nightwing, sitting at the high end of the table with a delicate china cup cradled in his hands, and surrounded by three of Red Hood’s burliest, grim-faced men. Each of them respectively was holding a tea pot, a sugar bowl and a creamer. The last one seemed to have made it a point of honour to pour milk into Nightwing’s teacup, whether the vigilante liked it or not – he would pour the milk or die trying.

Red Hood didn’t even know there was a tea set hidden somewhere in his base.

Words flew from his mouth, as his brain boiled. “Nightwing, the fuck, what are you doing, having a freaking tea party in here?!” He wasn’t sure which part of that sentence was a question he wanted to have answered. 

Nightwing looked as flummoxed as Red Hood himself felt confused. “I don’t… know?” He said, voice coloured with honest bewilderment. He set his teacup down and away from the creamer’s reach. “I wanted to talk with you, but the moment I got here your goons kind of freaked out.” 

As a fluent speaker of Nightwing, he knew the meaning of _got here_ in American English to be _appeared out of thin air, dangling upside down on the rope of my grappler, giving everyone a complimentary heart attack_. But wait, what was that about freaking out…?

“Freaked out?! What do you mean, freaked out?!” He demanded, freaking out himself and glared at his men. They were somehow able to tell even though he had his helmet on, as they visibly paled and frantically shook their heads. 

What the ever loving fuck did they do to his Birdie?! 

“I mean,” Nightwing said, failing to notice the murderous air about Red Hood and the tea set squad shaking in their boots. “They sat me down here, gave me a cup of tea…” He looked around, as if expecting to see his understanding of this situation lying about somewhere. “I think I heard something about organising a plate of biscuits.”

Biscuits, huh. Tea always brought out the British out of Birdie, Alfred’s influence no doubt. So what if the old butler had been living in the States for more than a half of his life, he would still rather be caught dead in a creased uniform than utter the word _cookie_.

“You three,” he addressed his men and they snapped at attention. “OUT!” He growled, jabbing his thumb in direction of the door behind him. He would deal with them later.

Red Hood didn’t need to tell them twice. They all but ran away like a flock of spooked ostriches, mindful of the delicate tea set pieces in their hands, though the last one didn’t leave until he pointedly put the creamer on the table right in front of Nightwing.

Once they were alone, Red Hood took off his helmet and set it aside. Then, he pulled out a chair and sat down next to the vigilante. “Hey,” he said softly, very glad that he had listened to the comm guy and wiped fresh blood off his person – Birdie wouldn’t have liked seeing that. “How have you been?” He looked fine, as far as Jason as could tell, but then again that meant very little. Nightwing had been looking just fine whilst going without heat for who knows how long, after all.

Nightwing slowly exhaled and looked to the side. “Yeah, about that…”

Oh fuck, no. People who had been well, would have just replied with _well_ or _fine_ and an optional _thank you_ at the end, not _yeah, about that_ – that implied some deep shit about to be disclosed.

Jason felt his whole body grow tense.

“I was wondering if…” Nightwing cut himself in the middle of the sentence. 

“Yes?” He pressed and inwardly cringed, as it came out terser than intended. If Dick weren’t well, then Jason stressing him even further was last thing he needed.

“…I mean,” Dick said, stealing glances at him. Jason didn’t think he had ever seen him this flustered before. “I don’t want you to feel pressured. You’ve already been doing me a favour. If you’re not comfortable with the idea, then this conversation never happened.” Or heard him beat about the bush so much.

“Duly noted. What’s the idea?” He asked, impatient. The suspense was killing him.

“So, I went to see my doctor earlier this week.” It appeared that Dick finally decided to share what Jason wanted and dreaded to hear since the last heat. “She said my omega’s agitated.”

The word felt like a punch in the gut.

“Agitated…?” he repeated weakly. ( _See?,_ his alpha nagged, _you fucked something up somehow somewhere and now omega is not only displeased, omega is **agitated**_.)

Jason was wrong before, for _this_ was how he would surely meet his end. Not beaten up to death by a madman with a crowbar, not dismissed by the only omega he had ever cared for, but having realised he made said omega _agitated_.

_Focus Todd, he’s not done talking._

Indeed Dick wasn’t. His lovely face was completely overtaken with red, as he took a deep, calming breath. “She said that my next heat, whenever it comes, I shouldn’t spend… alone.”

Jason dumbly nodded along, his mind suddenly void of any thought.

Nightwing tried not to be discouraged by the lack of verbal reaction. “So… I was wondering, if you’d be willing to…” He mulled over his wording, as he chewed his lower lip. Jason found that terribly distracting. “Ah, help me out with that.”

Jason slowly blinked. He felt as if half of his brain evaporated and was now struggling to process this conversation on just the remaining neurons. “As in…?” He prompted, hoping for some additional information to help him along.

Dick Grayson, the famous flirt, notorious heartbreaker of the cape community, ducked his head in embarrassment. 

…Oh dear Lord, could it be going where Jason thought it was going?

(Please, _please_ , let it be going where he thought it was going!)

“As in, I beg you get the hint.” He peeked at him, then quickly looked away.

Oh. 

_Ooooooooh_.

“Oh.” He said out loud what his brain was playing on repeat. “With me?”

“Um-hum.”

“During you heat.”

“Yep.” Nightwing nodded, his gaze fixed upon a suspiciously red stain on the tabletop. 

“Your omega wants to…” They had to be very clear on this point – sometimes omegas were fine with just cuddles and skin-to-skin contact – but his own throat betrayed him, making an executive decision to close up right there and then. Damnit. 

Miraculously, Nightwing seemed to understand. “Possibly,” he said, still avoiding eye contact. But then he shook his head and sighed. “Scratch that, most likely, yes.”

Jason’s mind blue screened. 

“Never mind!” Dick suddenly exclaimed and stood up, seemingly ready to leave. “Don’t worry about it, I’ll figure something out.”

That spurred Jason into action. “NOOOOOOO!” He howled, jumping to his feet as well. He grabbed Dick’s arms – anything to prevent him from leaving with the wrong idea. A mere thought of his Birdie getting into a nest with anyone but him – or, god forbid, with one of those comfort alphas sometimes hired by single omegas – made his bloodlust _sing_ with the need to destroy, maim, **kill**. “I mean…!” Fuck, _he couldn’t think!_ “Yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Oh,” Dick was visibly taken aback. “Are you sure?” He asked worriedly, peering up at him. “I don’t want you to feel pressu-”

_God yes, I’ve been sure since the day I met you_ , was the truth he wasn’t ready to confess, so he interjected with a simple, if a bit overeager, “YES.” Then, as if in an afterthought, he added, “are you?”

Nightwing’s lips curled in a smile. Small and shy, but a smile nonetheless. “I wouldn’t ask, if I weren’t.”

Fair point.

They were still looking each other in the eyes (so, through the lenses of their domino masks) as the silence fell upon them and in that silence they realised just how close they were standing, with Jason having yet to let go of Dick’s arm.

“Okay!” Dick exclaimed with truly astounding amount of false cheer and Jason snatched his hands away, as if they were burned. “I’ll let you know, when it’s time.” He said, walking backwards towards the door. Jason could only dumbly nod his agreement. “I’ll see myself out.” He gave a half-hearted wave goodbye, feeling for the doorknob with his other hand, then practically ran away from the room.

Jason’s body moved on autopilot. He exited the meeting room, picked up an old, metal bucket lying about in the corridor and went to the closest washroom. There, he filled the bucket with cold water and promptly dumped it over his head.

*

Caught up as they were in each other, neither Jason nor Dick realised that the gang newbie stood in the corridor, just behind the door, for the lion’s part of their conversation with a plate of biscuits clutched tight in his hands.

* * *

(Later that night, in a non-descript warehouse in the docks of Blüdhaven.)

Four of the most prominent crime lords in Blüdhaven were having a meeting. They were talking illegal weapon trade and possible cooperation opportunities, but mostly they were just insulting each other, when all of sudden the door were thrown open and inside stormed the Red Hood’s goons. Armed to the teeth and in kevlar suits adorned with red insignia, they were as unexpected as they were unwelcome – very. 

It quickly became apparent that although his goons were there, the man himself didn’t bother to show up. The four crime lords rarely agreed on anything, they were all of the mind that this wasn’t just rude, this was an outrage.

“The hell is the meaning of this?!” One of them slammed his fist on the table.

“Yeah, this ain’t your turf!” Other choose to shake his fist at the Red Hood’s goons instead. “Go outta here, you Gotham freaks!”

“Easy, gentlemen.” Forward stepped a goon with AK47 in his hands and ugly scar slashed across his face. Clearly a lieutenant. “No need to get your knickers in a twist. This is just a social call.”

_Social call my ass_ , the fist-slammer wanted to growl, but one of the minor goons made show of pointing the barrel of his shotgun at him. The words remained unsaid.

“Like good fellows that we are, we’re here to share a hot tip.” Toothy grin in combination with that godawful scar looked bloody terrifying. “You better make damn sure no major shit goes down in Blüd for the next,” he paused, calculating in his mind. “Up to three months.” All the Reds grunted their agreement. “You Blüdhaven scum simply cannot afford to have Nightwing stressed. Or overworked.” He added.

Fist-slammer felt his eyebrows rise. His associates shared similar looks of disbelieving incomprehension. “What the fuck are you on about?” He asked, confident he wouldn’t be shot for speaking about of turn. His was a valid question; Reds were making weirdly specific demands that made no apparent sense.

“You see,” the lieutenant talked to them like to a bunch of slow kindergarteners. Fist-slammer didn’t appreciate it at all. “Nightwing stressed equals Red Hood pissed, and Red Hood pissed means y’all lacking heads on your shoulders.”

Since fist-slammer was busy gaping at the man, so fist-shaker took up the torch of a Blüdhaven crime lords’ spokesman. “The fuck?! Since when Hood cares about a damn bat?!”

“Since boss’ gonna be screwing his brains out.” The lieutenant answered without missing a bit. “And he’s hopin’ for a bite too.”

This is what epiphany feels like, fist-shaker realised, as all the pieces fell into place. “Nightwing’s an omega?!” He wanted to snort, but then thought again and cringed instead.

“No wonder this city’s been such a freak show lately,” fist-slammer muttered and yeah, what he said. An omega like Nightwing was bound to attract all kinds of alphas – hell, fist-shaker himself wouldn’t mind a romp in the sheets with that one, regardless of designation – but unfortunately, that included mean-looking, morally ambiguous and trouble-stirring shitheads of the cape variety. Blüdhaven in this equation was both the stage and casualty of them parading and displaying themselves like a bunch of horny peacocks.

(Fuck, they knew it was messed up how often Deathstroke swung by their city!)

Hellish grin on the scared lieutenant’s face grew even wider. “Spread the word!” He made a hand gesture and the men left the premises, glad to have done their part.

Their boss deserved some happiness.

*

(Meanwhile, at the Crime Alley, Gotham City.)

In a shadowy alleyway somewhere behind an overflowing dumpster three working girls were taking a smoke break. They were one of each – a blonde, a redhead and a brunette – and the blonde was talking about a Nightwing versus common thugs action she had spied with her little eye two night ago during her _business trip_ to Blüdhaven. She relayed the events, focusing on the crucial details only.

“I mean, that butt,” she said, dreamily. “I would totally do him for free, if he so much as looked my way.”

Redhead and brunette exchanged surprised looks and howled with laugher. Cackle, really. 

“Down, girl!” Brunette said with a huge grin on her face.

“Haven’t cha heard?” Redhead snickered, delighted to be in the know, whilst her companion obviously was not.

“Hood’s got his eye on that one.” Brunette injected.

“What?” She blinked in surprise, then furrowed her brows. “Wow, no shit? Thought he hated bats?”

Redhead snickered. “Ooooh, but that one can _bite_.” She wiggled her brows.

Feeling the dots connect in her head, blonde spluttered. “Nighty’s an omega?!” She wanted to coo at the idea, but then ran the words again in her mind and reconsidered. And shuddered instead. 

Oh, the fury this one could unleash on any bastard dumb enough to threaten his future pups or mate! Definitely a turn on to a certain group of people, she mused. No wonder all the dangerous fuck-ups kept popping up in Blüdhaven to sniff around him. She suspected the moment Nightwing finally gives some lucky guy or gal his bite, and thus officially gets off the market, Blüdhaven mayor would cry tears of joy. And not dignified, manly, _single tear silently running down his cheek_ , no. Big, ugly tears.

She chuckled to herself at the thought. “Fingers crossed for Hood, I suppose.”

If anyone deserved some happiness in this dump of a city, it would be their Alley homeboy.

*

(Next morning, in the building where Jason sometimes lives.)

On her way back from the baker, Nancy of the third floor bumped (quite literary, with her walker) into Tracy of the fourth floor – the one with hearing aid and pacemaker.

“Have you heard?” Nancy struck up a conversation with her fellow elderly tenant, as they waited for the lift to come down. It sure was taking its sweet time. “The other day, our Jay had a _special friend_ over,” she said in a nudge-nudge wink-wink tone of voice she perfected over the years. 

Tracy covered her mouth in surprise. “I haven’t!” She exclaimed in too loud a voice. “Special how?” She inquired. Details, she needed _details_.

Her position in the elderly community of the block re-established with the juiciest piece of gossip in years, Nancy allowed herself a self-satisfied smirk. “An omega boy. Pretty as a picture.”

“Oooooh. About time, I say.” Tracy wiggled her brows.

Nancy nodded sagely. “It’s been a while since we had little ones running around here.”

“But wait!” Tracy said, alarmed and as always – too loudly. “Yesterday, when Jay was helping me bring up my groceries, he didn’t have a bite.”

She sighed and shook her head, sadly. “I’m afraid they’re not there just yet. Not for the lack of wanting on Jay’s part, though.” He was so precious and cute, shielding his omega from strangers! And he looked at him just like her own Jonny, god rest his soul, used to look at her. Ah, to be young and in love again. “But with omega that pretty, our boy’s got to step up his game.”

Tracy rubbed her wrinkled chin, deep in thought. “Did you tell him to eat up meat before?”

“You think I’m stupid, of course I did!” She huffed, feeling almost insulted. “And he probably didn’t, which is why he didn’t get a bite.” Nancy decided that was what happened. It made perfect sense in her mind.

“Them young alphas these days. Always thinking they know better, not listening to the wisdom of their elders.” Tracy lamented. “Well, we’ve got to help.”

“My thoughts exactly. Next time, we can’t have him collapsing and leaving poor omega hanging again.” Nancy decided that happened too.

They agreed to play it by the ear and then, when the time nears, bring their unofficial grandson an assortment of calorie-rich, protein-packed snacks.

“God knows that nice boy deserves some happiness.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, I had fun writing it? :D  
>  ~~Everybody ships JayDick (^^)/~~
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> There's not much, but feel free to say hi :D.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: for more than a half of this chapter Jason is an unreliable narrator. ~~In other words, our boy is confused.~~

A bit later that evening, Dick delivered a final blow to Jason’s sanity in a form of text message.

 _My circle’s thrown out of balance_ , it said, _so_ _my heat can come whenever, in 3 months or tomorrow_ , and concluded with a flushed face, crying face and screaming in fear face emoji. _Sorry for troubling you so_ , Jason’s phone pinged again a second later, and then pinged once more with – oh dear Lord in the Heavens above – a message consisting of two characters only.

 _< 3_.

As in, _<_ and _3_ put together in that exact order. No matter how he looked at it (and he turned his phone around to check it out from every possible angle) it made a sign of a heart. Jason gaped at the screen, still in the washroom, drenched to the bone and shivering, when his mind suddenly did an equivalent of a table flip and proclaimed itself done.

But his alpha _roared_.

*

Years later, when Jason would look back to the time in between that text message spelling doom to his sanity and Dick’s next heat, it would seem to him he had spent it sleepwalking in some sort of feverish dream. He still went about his usual business as efficiently and ruthlessly as always, negotiating deals, patrolling the streets and beating up numerous scumbags of the Gotham’s underbelly, but on muscle memory alone, without any input from his conscious mind. No, conscious mind had been lost the moment he got _< 3_ from Dick, as his alpha firmly pushed frivolous things like rationality and sense aside, and flooded his brain with basic instincts, cloying his thoughts like a heavy haze.

He had to be _ready_. Omega might need him at _any time_.

He remembered going back to his flat every single day to contemplate the space; move furniture; scrub the place clean until every nook and cranny was forever imbued with the smell of detergent; buy home décor stuff he didn’t need; throw away said stuff, because it was stupid, useless shit and Dick would laugh at him for getting it in the first place; hit the shops right back to buy similar junk, rinse at repeat. His alpha’s restlessness got so bad that on one memorable Saturday morning Jason was seriously considering painting all the walls red. When he finally snapped out of that particular bout of insanity, he was already in Home Depot comparing different shades of the colour, to the obvious delight of the staff.

Since his higher intellectual functions such as analytical thinking were temporarily shut down, those days were also filled with confusion on Jason’s part. Strange things kept happening, little comments were thrown here and there that made no sense whatsoever. Like _better keep up the stamina, huh, Hood?_ , courtesy of one of his associates, or _why do the pretty ones always fall for brutes like you?!_ , delivered by some upstart villain Red Hood had been pummelling at the time. Then there was some weirdo who called himself Raptor; intend on _eliminating the competition_ (his words, not Jason’s), he appeared out of nowhere and attempted to off him during his smoke break. No one in the Gotham’s illegal drug trade business had ever heard of the guy, but Red Hood beat him black and purple just in case, before kicking his snivelling remains out of his city.

And of course one could never forget to mention those brief moments of relative clarity, few and far between as they were, that featured the Bat failing at conversation, Red Hood’s men speaking nonsense, Nightwing being exasperated on a rooftop and embarrassing neighbours from hell.

*

Bat failing at conversation

They had a saying in the Crime Alley – once is happenstance, twice is coincidence, thrice is the Bat attempting a conversation.

…So maybe Jason was the only person who had ever said that, but having run into the Bat for the third time in the same week (and it was Wednesday), he felt it really should become a thing.

They were standing few meters apart in one of many back alleys of the East End. Tall and bulky, with his cape billowing behind him in the wind, Batman struck an imposing figure. But so did Red Hood, just as tall and heavily built, with his helmet on, guns strapped to his thighs and lack of fucks to give about violence and the killing.

“Red Hood.” Batman rasped and a lone stroke of lightning chose that moment precisely to slash across the night sky with a peal of thunder to add to the dramatism of their impending showdown.

“Batman.” He acknowledged in response.

The air between them was tense, charged with barely concealed aggression of two alphas about to have a disagreement, as the old Bat opened his mouth to finally get off his chest whatever bullshit he decided was a problem this time. Red Hood’s hands slid down to the guns in his holsters.

A minute passed, then two. Batman alternatively opened and closed him mouth, pinched expression on his face growing even more pronounced with each second. Then, his jaw snapped close and closed it stayed, not a single word have been said out loud.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Same shit had happened the day before and the day before that one too. The old Bat ambushed him, starring intensified, then acted as if he had swallowed his own tongue. Both times Red Hood shrugged it off, uncaring, and went on his way, leaving Bruce behind, alone and gaping like a fish taken out of water – after the last fiasco of a peaceful interaction, his _do not engage with the Bat_ policy was back in place, enforced as strictly as ever. But this was a third day in a row and to be honest, it was getting old very fast. “Is this going anywhere?” He inquired, not particularly interested if indeed it was.

Another struck of lightning illuminated the sky. In its pale light (Jason could have sworn!) the uncovered part of Batman’s face look rather flushed. As it the man was blushing.

Jason blinked, surprised. To this day, he had seen Bruce blush only once, on a Thanksgiving, many years ago. On that day a pre-heat Dick got a bit too friendly with few bottles of Alfred’s homemade cider and as a result he crawled on Bruce’s lap, scented him and in between hiccups demanded they all talk about things that made them feel grateful.

Obviously, Jason was doing none of those things right now.

“Are you…” he hesitated. Engaging with the Bat was a fantastically bad idea, but he just couldn’t help himself. “Blushing?”

Batman didn’t say a word, only clenched his jaw so hard it had to be painful.

Oh fuck, he totally was! The realisation had Red Hood laughing his ass off, right in the Bat’s face. “Oh, c’mon! Don’t be like that!” He called, when Bruce turned around and made to briskly walk away. “Now I’m kinda interested what could possibly be so bad, it has _you_ flustered!”

Batman quickened his pace.

“Not to worry, boss,” the comm guy buzzed in his ear sometime later. “Bat’s been smart enough to send his spawn off-world the moment the word hit the streets.”

Red Hood frowned. What word? _What streets?!_

*

Goons speaking nonsense

“Have you heard?!” Instead of checking the newest shipment, the handpicked group of ex-military and trained killers working for Red Hood was whispering excitedly, standing in a circle, like a bunch of pre-teen girls swapping secrets in a schoolyard. And they thought they were discreet about it, no doubt.

“Penguin broke out of Arkham,” the same person raved. “And guess what?!” He paused for dramatic effect. “He swung by Blüd to _propose_.”

 _Wow, that one sure got all his screws loose_ , was the starchy remark he wanted to make, but he was forestalled by a salvo _uuuuh_ s and _oooooh_ s, and _oh damn_ s, low whistles and delighted cackle.

His eyebrows rose on their own accord, because what the fuck, Red Hood was under impression he had employed grown men, not gossiping schoolgirls. Feeling second-hand embarrassment for them, he pointedly did not look up from the gun he was cleaning.

“Got turned down so violently, he ended up right back in Arkham with thirty fresh stiches on his butt!” The guy exclaimed, in between bouts of giggles.

Freaking giggles. Red Hood seriously considered cutting his salary by half. Or maybe all of their salaries, as they were now channelling a squad of overexcited cheerleaders, down to the squealing and fanning their faces with their hands.

“Wooooow, that’s sick, bro!” One of them exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

“Like the French princess!” Newbie threw in his two cents, barely able to contain himself.

“Imagined an omega that fierce?” Someone else chortled with evil glee, starting another round of fangirling – seriously, Red Hood had no idea what else to call it.

“Damn, boss’ a lucky man,” one of his lieutenants sighed. Men around him were nodding and grunting their agreement with that statement.

…The fuck? What did any of that had to do with him?

*

Nightwing being exasperated on a rooftop

“HOOD!”

Red Hood panicked. There was no doubt in his mind that should Dick catch him reading the _Omega’s Health Magazine Special Edition: To Knot Or Not To Knot – That And Other Questions You Were Too Embarrassed To Ask_ , Jason would die. It was a given. An indisputable fact, like sun raising in the east and setting in the west. Seeing no other option, he dropped the magazine over the edge of the roof, crushed a half-finished cigarette under his boot, then turned around to greet very upset Nightwing marching up to him.

“Hello Night-”

“Kindly DO SOMETHING about your goons!” Nightwing all but lost it and showed him. Well, tried to show him, because strong as he was, Red Hood was basically a brick wall; the truth of this fact being rubbed right in only served to enrage Nightwing further. “NOT ONLY do they skulk around Blüdhaven, yapping to everyone who would and wouldn’t listen that I’m omega -”

They were doing **what now**?!

“…I’d like an explanation by the way, BUT ALSO they keep bullying me, making appointments in Nightwing’s name for full body relaxing massages I **do not** need nor want! Do I look stressed to you?!” He howled and now that he mentioned it, he did look pretty stressed out. “I’m not stressed, THEY’RE MAKING ME STRESSED!”

Soundlessly, the door to the rooftop opened and the gang newbie sneaked towards them, a Styrofoam cup held carefully between his palms. He presented it to the vigilante with his best, winning smile.

Nightwing starred at the proffered cup, the look on his face screaming bloody murder.

Jason half expected him to grab the cup just to throw it in newbie’s face and newbie himself must have been thinking along similar lines, for he curled in on himself and peered at the vigilante meekly. “Please, Mr. Nightwing,” he pleaded. “Guys will have my head, if you don’t deliver you this tea.” He was playing his _hapless beta stuck with unreasonable alphas_ card so well, Jason gained a whole lot more respect for the guy.

The bloody murder expressed on his face gained incredulous quality, as Nightwing worked his jaw for a second to finally spit out, “FINE.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nightwing!” Newbie beamed, handing the vigilante the cup. “Boss.” He respectfully nodded at Jason, then made a beeline for the door, eager to leave the rooftop as soon as possible.

Jason had absolutely no idea what just happened.

With an exasperated _humph_ , Nightwing plopped down on the edge of the roof. All fight seemed to have left him, as he took a sip of his tea, then looked up at Jason, patting the space next to him.

Getting the hint, he sat down as well.

“You won’t believe the crazy week I’ve had…”

*

Embarrassing neighbours from hell

At first Jason thought nothing of it.

He would help one of his elderly neighbours bring up her groceries, like he always did, and she would gush _what_ _sweet a boy_ Jason was for _helping an old lady out, would have squeezed your cheek, if I could reach it_. Then she would proceed to push a plastic container into his hands with a good-natured _here, have some homemade pierogi_ (Nancy) or _oh, I just made too much stew_ (Tracy) and as a goodbye throw an off-handed comment on Jason’s diet, such as _you should eat more oysters_ (Nancy) or _if you don’t like seafood, eat dark chocolate and cherries instead_ (Tracy). There was clearly some communication happening between the two.

Not that Jason was complaining. They had a saying in the Crime Alley – once an Alley boy, always an Alley boy (and no, with this one Jason wasn’t the only person who had ever said it) – and an Alley boy never turned down food offered freely. But after few weeks this supplying Jason with leftovers thing became an oddly frequent affair, as the old ladies started coming up to the fifth floor to knock directly on his door. Innocent dietary comments morphed into general life advice heavy with innuendo that was quickly loosing subtlety and had Jason’s face on fire. He naively thought that Tracy’s impromptu lecture on nesting etiquette, thinly veiled in truly atrocious metaphors, would be the worst of it, but no, of course Nancy had to raise up to the challenge no one, absolutely no one had issued ever.

“Now, listen Jay,” she screeched, once Jason thanked her for the container filled with some cabbage and sausage extravaganza. “When the time comes to knot you omega -”

Oh god.

“NO,” he quickly interjected, because he refused to be a part of this conversation and refused to believe that this was his life now. Had he known this was coming, he would have stayed in his grave, thank you very much.

Nancy ignored him. “…you have to make sure that -”

Jason really needed her to _stop talking_. “Were you always this embarrassing or is it a new development?” He hissed, dragging his palm down his face. His cheeks were hot to touch.

“Oh c’mon boy, live a little! I don’t know why you youngsters are so weirdly prudish these days. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about! It’s all completely natural. When healthy alpha and omega fancy each other -”

Jason shut the door in her face.

“And eat up meat, before he drags you to his nest!” She called from the other side.

*

As it turned out, Dick’s heat came in two months’ time. When the vigilante showed up on his doorstep with a duffle bag on his shoulder and Jason finally saw his blue eyes looking up at him, no domino mask obscuring the view, as if by magic, that fog cloying his mind was lifted and his thoughts were once again clear.

* * *

Jason feared it would be awkward, but it wasn’t and perhaps it shouldn’t have come as a surprise.

Being right on the verge of his heat, meant that agitation his omega had been feeling was brought right to the surface of Dick’s conscious mind, putting the vigilante on edge. It was evident in the crease between his eyebrows and the tense line of his shoulders, as he toed off his shoes and peeled the patches off the sides of his neck. And yes, it was there in his scent too – a sharp tinge wrapped around the familiar smell like an ivy growing up a post. It sneaked into Jason’s lungs with a breath and as it ran down his veins with his blood, he felt a shudder down his spine. The feeling that tinge in Dick’s scent brought about, of cold fingers closing around his hearth… Even if Jason himself couldn’t name it, his alpha recognised it for it was.

A warning.

_I’m here. Don’t you dare to ignore me. Don’t you dare to dismiss me._

(As if he ever could.)

His alpha wasn’t cowed in the slightest. Quite the contrary – the rush of excitement, the pure glee of something young and painfully eager in his chest, bleed through to Jason’s consciousness and had him stupidly happy.

So yeah. There wasn’t much space left for embarrassment.

“I’m going to make my nest now,” Dick said, taking a bundle of unwashed clothes from Jason. “I will call you when it’s ready.” He looked up at him, his expression dead serious. “Until then, **do not** open the door.”

Jason had an inkling that grinning from ear to ear when faced with Dick’s mighty scowl was not an appropriate reaction, but he couldn’t help himself. “Yeah, sure.” He said and then, because he was just so giddy, he added, “cool, cool, cool.”

Dick’s scowl deepened. Without another word, he spun around and shut himself in the spare room.

Time passed. One hour, two hours – basically a small eternity. Hand of the clocked dragged mercilessly slow, every minute taking trice as long as it ought to have. Jason felt restless with nervous energy brimming just beneath his skin. He watered the plants. He scared a flock of pigeons from the fire escape. He tried to pick a book, but couldn’t focus long enough to read a single line. He snacked on some Nancy-provided leftovers, because a memory of her cackle became a recurring theme in his nightmares and Dick still wasn’t calling him.

How come he wasn’t ready yet? Was nest-making really that time-consuming a task? Or was his Birdie drawing it out, trying to make it more fancy somehow, since he would not be the only person getting comfy in it this time round? But Jason didn’t need fancy! What he needed was to be let in already, so that he could wrap Dick in his arms and scent him a little.

He tried knocking on the door, because who knew – maybe his Birdie needed something, but was too in his head to ask. He was very tactful with his query, not to mention respectful, not even touching the doorknob, yet all he got for his trouble was a growled **_NO!_** and a dull _thud!_ of a solid object hitting the door. Jason quickly backed away, cursing himself for bothering an already agitated omega. Dick could take all the time in the world, he told himself firmly, to make the most outlandish of a nests, if it eased his nerves and made him happy.

More time passed and Jason started wondering. Should he maybe… undress? Omega’s Health Magazine claimed that an alpha showing up butt naked to answer a nesting omega’s call, was perfectly within the dos, not don’ts, of nesting etiquette, but Jason was still full of doubts. Birdie clearly stated that he didn’t have platonic cuddles in his mind for this heat, so clothes would be in the way at some point, but to Jason it still seemed presumptuous somehow.

“Jay?” Dick called, just as Jason was opening his laptop to investigate this matter further. “I made the nest, I’m ready!”

Oh. Wow. Jason swallowed nervously, his throat suddenly tight. This was really happening.

He cautiously opened the door and peeked inside. Dick was wrapped in his favourite quilt, sitting amongst the sea of red. Fuck, but did that sight do things to Jason. So many, many things.

A crease between Dick’s eyebrows making a sudden comeback jerked him back to reality, though.

“What is this?” Dick demanded, making a vague hand motion towards the all of Jason.

“What is what?” He asked, alarmed.

Dick grabbed a spare blanket and threw it at him. “Go get changed.”

Okay, Omega’s Health Magazine obviously knew its shit well, he begrudgingly admitted, stripping so fast he almost fell to the floor, his ankles tangled it his tracksuit bottoms. But it still felt weird to him, so he ended up awkwardly wrapping himself in the oh so graciously provided blanket, much like a trauma victim would.

Fuck, he just knew he was blushing.

When he walked into the spare room again, Dick didn’t even deign him with a single glance, busy as he was arranging and rearranging two identical, equally-fluffed red pillows. Maybe it was for the best, as Jason felt it entirely possible that intense starring and (god forbid) a snigger from Birdie right now might have him chickening out and running away to hide in the bathroom. As if he wasn’t a grown alpha and feared crime lord, but a green, puberty-stricken street rat with whole constellations of acne all over his face.

And just like that runt he had once been, Jason kind of forgot one crucial detail. This flat might have been his territory, but nest belonged to omega only. Without explicit permission, safe for hypothetical pups Dick might give birth to in the future, no one was allowed inside. It wasn’t just good manners, or some rule upheld in polite company, no. It was a taboo and a damn strong one. A step away from the nest, Jason felt the muscles in his legs cramp up, rendering him unable to move any closer.

Satisfied with the pillow arrangement, Dick turned around and looked up at Jason. “What are you doing?” He asked quizzically, cocking his head to the side.

Jason forced his jaw to unclench. “You didn’t invite me in.”

Dick blinked few times, uncomprehending. “Oh!” He exclaimed and his cheeks heated up with a blush. He quickly cleared his throat. “Um. Please, come in. Did it work?”

At once, his whole body relaxed. “Yeah,” Jason nodded, as he stepped over cushions and clothes put around the mattress, marking the boundary of the nest. In a way, getting inside really felt like crossing over to… elsewhere. Some other dimension were only their mixed scents and colour red existed.

( _You got this_ , his alpha piped up, _because if you don’t, I will fucking make you kill yourself_.)

He laid down and looked around at the pillows and blankets, willing himself not to fidget. He didn’t remember ever being in a nest, not even his mother’s when he had been a pup. How could he? His pathetic excuse of a father abandoned them, when Jason was still very young and after that, his mother never went into heat again.

But maybe it wasn’t the best time to be thinking about his sordid past.

“So… What now?” Jason asked, feigning nonchalance.

“Now,” Dick grabbed a blanket and wrapped it around himself on top of the quilt. “I will catch a nap.” He flopped down and rolled himself over to Jason. “And you can do whatever, as long as you don’t leave the nest.” Dick closed his eyes and rested his head against his chest.

Jason might or might have not stopped breathing.

Dick craned his neck and cracked one eye open. “You can hold me, you know.” He stifled a yaw, then settled himself right back. “Just saying, in case it wasn’t obvious.” He murmured into Jason’s chest, his breath a touch of warmth on his skin. Moments later, Dick was asleep.

Jason stared at him in amazement. For Dick it wasn’t just a nap, but a luxury. He knew that. Peaceful slumber without a care in the world equalled vulnerability a vigilante like Nightwing could not allow himself, if a trusted alpha wasn’t there to watch over him. But here he was, not only on Jason’s territory, but with Jason in his nest, out cold in a manner of seconds. As if his Birdie truly believed Jason would not fuck this up, even if everyone else in the whole world might be thinking that he would.

His stupid lizard brain could stuff his shitty pep talks, he decided. This was all the confidence boost he needed.

Jason gathered the red cocoon with his Birdie inside in his arms. Gently, he pushed a hem of the blanket aside and leaned over to sniff at Dick’s neck, where his scent was the strongest. His lips curled not in a smirk, not in a grin, but an honest smile.

The tinge in his scent smelt of a calm omega.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun Fact: Oysters, dark chocolate and cherries are thought to boost male virility ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) .
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> There's not much, but feel free to say hi :D.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: the smut bomb is being dropped.

Jason could have sworn he closed his eyes only for a minute, but when he next opened them, he saw was a pair of blown-out pupils mere centimetres away from his face.

Under normal circumstances waking up to find someone looking at him or being so close, or both, would have him reaching for his gun in a knee jerk reaction – blast brain out first, check to whom it belonged later. But nothing about these circumstances was normal. Not the nest, not Dick’s smouldering gaze pinning him in place, not the changed mood between them.

Every breath he took – had been taking – was of Dick’s scent, enriched with sweetness. It had sneaked into his lungs already, with oxygen spread to every single cell of his body, pulling him under its spell so completely, Jason couldn’t remember what being free of it had felt like. _It’s the excitement of a circus performance_ , his alpha whispered, interpreting the notes in that scent to the sensations a conscious mind could grasp, _a thrill of free-falling, self-assurance of a cat that always lands on its feet. An invitation to join the land of wonders, if only for one night_. And the sweetness? What did that sweetness cloying Jason’s thoughts mean? _Ah. It means this night is now._

It was impossible to tell how long Dick had been starring at him, lying so close Jason could feel the heat of his skin and waiting for him to wake up. He had gotten out of his cocoon at some point, but he wasn’t naked, because why would he be? He had no mercy in his heart for Jason, evidently hellbent on destroying his soul. Full nudity would have been easier to deal with that the sight of Dick wearing his red T shit, worn down with age and good few sized too big for him. It dropped off his shoulder, revealing his golden skin. Nothing much, just a teasing peek – yet the most arousing thing Jason had ever seen.

Why was he teasing him so? Was he trying to seduce him? If so, he should know that Jason had been thoroughly seduced for years now and his body was ready to take care of him, like only an alpha could, even before he cracked his eyes open.

“Birdie,” Jason breathed and drew him into his arms, because he could no longer stand it. He buried his face in his neck, desperate to chase that scent with his lips.

Dick – no, it wasn’t his Birdie, at least not entirely so. It was his omega, an incarnation of unbridled desires, that reached out to run fingers up and down his arm, leaving goose bumps in their wake; Jason flexed his muscles, because he was that pathetic and eager to impress him with his alpha’s might. The feather-like touches moved, though, intend on exploring his side, then the broad expanse of his back.

Feeling bold, he let his own fingers wander. He felt a fissure of pleasure, when Dick arched his back at the line he drew over the red fabric, down his spine. He had to bite back a curse, when he slid his hand in between his thighs to found them wet with slick, so much slick and all of it was for him.

Dick squirmed in his hold, rubbing his hardness against his front. Encouraged, Jason thumbed his hole, tip of his finger catching on the rim and making the omega quivered. Fresh slick dripped down his thumb and he could only bite his lips, hide his face in Dick’s shoulder, yearning to taste his need for an alpha.

Hot breath washed over the side of his neck, as the omega turned his face, squirming in his hold again. Plush lips brushed against his earlobe, forming a whisper. “Alpha.”

Jason shuddered. He was sure even Bruce had ever heard Dick’s omega talk. “Yes? Anything you want, Birdie.”

It was the right thing to say, it seemed, for Dick nuzzled his ear with a small purr. He slid his hand down his back, then between them and Jason couldn’t think, because a curious finger was ghosting over the swelling already formed at the base of his member.

Dick whispered right into his ear. “Give me your knot.”

_Fuck yes, gladly._ “It’s all yours, baby.”

*

Spending a heat with Dick turned out to be very enlightening. No, seriously.

For one thing, he learned that his poor Birdie was touch starved. Jason vaguely recalled Alfred saying that little Dickie had been a tactile child when he had first come to live in the mansion, but seemed to have grown out of it since. As much as he loved and respected the old butler – bullshit. Birdie definitely had not grown out of it, he merely got better at _enduring without_ , and so the moment he realised that cuddles were an available option, he basically glued himself to Jason. He had at least one limb wrapped around him in a death grip at all times, but more often than not he went full-octopus mode on the alpha. Jason was only too happy to indulge him.

For another, he learned that Dick’s omega was an entity unto its own, down to shitty sense of humour (as Jason was about to find out soon). He was also very demanding and knew exactly what he wanted, which was Jason’s knot. And he wanted it constantly. Suddenly the sheer number of advices on how to deal with _penile soreness_ published in magazines and websites targeting alphas made perfect sense, as did the _make my dick fall off_ appearing at the top of the list of autocomplete suggestions that one time, when he had typed _can sharing a heat with omega_ into the google search bar. (And to think he laughed his ass of when he saw that last one, when it was a valid concern that ought to be addressed by a medical professional.)

Also, Jason finally understood why his elderly neighbours were so adamant about him packing proteins _before_. Omegas in heat might not need any food, but alphas taking care of them sure did and after a full day of doing just that, he was positively famished. Unfortunately, his assortment of snacks was in the kitchen and Jason, in the omega’s opinion, was a fixture in the nest; the mere idea of him stepping a foot outside was deemed preposterous, like it broke the fundamental laws of physics or something. Dick actually freaking _growled_ , when Jason so much as thought about making a mad dash for the fridge.

But all was not lost just yet, for omegas in heat still needed to nap. With that thought in mind, Jason plotted like the savvy strategist (with a growling stomach) that he was, and eventually Dick unwittingly rewarded his patience with a huge yaw, just as they were coming down from the recent tie. Jason bode his time, wrapping his Birdie in a blanket and immediately putting his arms around him to ensure the full-octopus mode would not be triggered. He listened to his steady breathing, rubbing calming circles on his back and once he was completely sure that his Birdie was happily in the Land of Nod, it was go time.

The plan was fairly simple – get out of the nest, tiptop on the way to the kitchen, grab as many snacks as possible and jump right back between the blankets before omega would so much as shift in his sleep. Stage one was going well, as Dick didn’t twitch a single muscle when he took his arms off his person and inched his way to the edge of the nest, nor when he carefully rose up to his feet. Making good use of every bit of stealth training he had received from both the Bat and many different teachers he encountered on his way back to Gotham, Jason stepped over the pile of pillows and completely soundlessly set one foot on the floor.

Blue eyes snapped open.

Busted.

“Hi Birdie.” He gave him a shaky smile, resolutely ignoring the cold dread spilling in his stomach; Dick’s discontent scared his alpha shitless. Also, the omega being attuned to Jason’s presence to the point of sensing his location in relation to the nest (in or out), while flattering, was very creepy. “I’m just gonna grab something from the kitchen. Be back in a sec, _I swear_.”

Dick scowled. There was that tinge in his scent again, the one that made Jason feel as if cold fingers were wrapping themselves around his heart.

Ah, fuck. “No, no, no, no, no!” Jason wasn’t entirely sure what he was denying so fervently, he just knew he had to placate the omega, no matter what. “Your alpha’s just gonna get some food real quick and be back to cuddle you before you know it!” He waited with a bated breath as the omega considered.

Predictably, Dick didn’t say anything. Instead, he crawled up to him, shedding blankets as he moved. Jason automatically reached out to help him when he stood up on shaky legs, then let a small noise of surprise as the omega jumped onto his back, arms encircling his shoulders, legs wrapping around his waist. That awful tinge in his scent eased, replaced by something else. _Omega thinks he’s clever_ , his alpha helpfully volunteered his interpretation services, _and is proud of himself for solving the problem_.

Huh.

Okay, Jason supposed he could work with that. He gripped omega’s legs to better secure the hold and piggybacked butt-naked Richard Grayson-Wayne to the kitchen while being butt-naked himself, so that he could stuff his face with food and maybe not end up half-starved before this heat was over. Objectively speaking, this whole situation was fucking ridiculous, but if it made the omega happy then sure, why not. He even patted his Birdie on the leg and said, “aren’t you a smart one.”

Dick purred into the back of his neck.

Since he had an inkling the omega would demand his attention the second they made it back to the nest, he decided to sate his hunger right there and then. He stood in front of the open fridge and devoured some strange meat-and-rice cabbage rolls (from Nancy), not even bothering to heat them up first, then wolfed down a whole platter of cold cuts (from Tracy), while Dick clutched to him like a koala bear hanging from a branch of eucalyptus tree. He peered over his shoulder when Jason uncapped a bottle of sports energy drink to wash down mashed potatoes (from Tracy), but offered some, he quickly turned his face away.

“Alpha,” he whispered Jason in the ear.

“Hmmm?” He hummed to indicate he was listening, speed-chewing a mouthful of tuna salad (that one he had made himself).

Dick nosed along his earlobe. His hot breath so close to the scent gland in Jason’s neck raised goose bumps on his arms. “Give me your knot.”

Jason choked and spluttered at the same time, while all the blood in his body rushed down to his groin, the combination making him feel light-headed. Only when his windpipe was clear, did he turn his head, finding himself on the receiving end of an expectant stare. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, let’s get back to the nest -”

“Now.”

Jason blinked, dumbfounded. Glassy, blue eyes narrowed slightly.

“Wouldn’t you be more comfo-” He tried to reason, but Dick cut right in.

“NOW.”

Jeez, okay! He helped the omega down on his feet, kicking the fridge close. He turned around and all the air rushed out of his lungs, because Dick wasted no time to bend over the kitchen counter and spread his legs for him. And fuck, he was so wet already. Mesmerised, Jason watched a fat drop of slick slide down to his thigh, the sweetness in omega’s scent at once fogging his mind.

Nothing had ever got to him like the sight of his Birdie needing him so much.

He was on Dick in a second. “Don’t worry baby,” Jason pressed a kiss to his shoulder and guided himself into his hole. “Your alpha got you.”

_Your alpha, huh?_ , he turned his own words in his mind. Damn, he wished, so desperately wished it was him that Dick wanted, not a convenient comfort alpha, that the scent glands on the sides of his neck ached.

He buried himself in the omega and revelled in the gasp it drew from his lips, biting back a curse at how hot and wet he was for him. Dick was pushing back at him, impatient, and Jason was helpless but to give him exactly what he wanted. They moved together and it didn’t matter that they weren’t in the nest. The world faded away, as they created a space just for the two of them – even without blankets and pillows there was so much red around them – and Jason only cared for the moans spurring him on and their scents mingling in the air.

“You’ll take it, won’t you?” He whispered with a ragged breath, pushing his knot inside the willing omega. Dick squeezed around him in the peak of his own pleasure and Jason choked a gasp, resting his forehead against his back, following him seconds later.

Awareness came back slowly, as Jason enjoyed the afterglow and the scent of satisfied omega in his arms, but once it inevitably did and took a firm hold of his conscious mind, he realised that he tied with Dick in the middle of the kitchen, draped over the counter in a very awkward positions and like that, they were stuck there for the next fifteen to thirty minutes. And he could already feel the beginning of a cramp in his left leg.

He really should have stomped his foot with all the alpha-authority he could muster and drag Dick back to the nest.

“I hope you realise I can’t walk us back to the nest like that,” Jason pointedly remarked, annoyed at the omega, but more at himself.

Dick, however, didn’t seem concerned. Quite the opposite, in fact. He bended and rearranged his limbs in ways that should not be possible and against all odds succeeded in making himself comfortable, trapped in between Jason’s bulk and the kitchen counter. All the while, his shoulders were suspiciously shaking with a barely held-in snigger, as if he found their predicament the funniest thing ever.

“Unbelievable,” Jason muttered under his breath. His Birdie’s omega was a bit of a dick.

*

Not only was his idea of a joke questionable at best, the omega was also not susceptible at all to the common sense. Jason found that out the hard way, when trying to get some water in him.

“Birdie, I’m not joking. You have to drink.” A shitty alpha might have given up after one half-assed attempt or not address the problem at all, but Jason fucking cared, alright? Cool and dry skin, chapped lips – common symptoms of dehydration were right there for him to see and he could not bear with the thought of Dick being unwell during his heat again (or ever). So there Jason was, offering a bottle of water to the omega, who had backed away to the corner of the nest furthest away from him and eyed it with distrust, before turning his face away with a scoff.

Jason dragged his hand down his face, feeling so done.

Was that how his Birdie wanted to play it, huh? Well then, he was in for a rude awaking, because Jason was an asshole and did not give a single fuck about offending omega’s delusional sentiments. If cajoling didn’t work – and it clearly didn’t – he wasn’t afraid to bring out the big guns.

“If you don’t drink,” he growled, channelling Red Hood on the verge of a killing spree, “I **won’t** knot you.”

That sure got Dick’s attention. He snapped his head to glare right back at him and oh, the indignation, the utter betrayal shining in his blue eyes! Jason felt a pang of guilt in his gut, while his alpha frantically urged him to prostate himself, or better – show his belly and beg for forgiveness. But no, that wouldn’t do. He was the alpha here. He had to be the responsible one when his omega was vulnerable. He had to show he was dead serious about this.

Jason clenched his jaw and offered the bottle again.

Not breaking the eye contact, Dick leaned forward with his arm outstretched and snatched the _bottle_ _of contention_ from his hands. He brought it to his lips, smouldering gaze never leaving Jason’s face, took a careful sip then gulped down a whole mouthful. His throat was bobbing up and down, and the more water he swallowed, the wider his pupils grew and his scent filled the air with its sweetness.

Was that supposed to be a challenge? No, not a challenge – a statement, but of what, Jason had no idea. The omega’s scent was already cursing through his veins, sending tendrils of warmth all the way down to his toes, and with each passing second, he felt less like a decisive, domineering alpha and more like a fourteen-year-old version of himself. The one that got an inconvenient boner during a Titan mission briefing at the sight of Nightwing bending over to pick up a pen that fucker, Kid Flash, had so dropped on purpose.

Dick threw the now empty bottle over his shoulder, uncaring where it landed. He got on all fours and crawled over to him, his eyes fucking _burning_. In a sudden epiphany, Jason understood perfectly what rodents and small mammals felt when preyed upon by the big cats.

He went obediently when the omega pushed him down, fisted red blanket when he crawled on his lap. Jason desperately wanted to push into the hand Dick closed around him, but at the narrowing of his eyes he forced himself to be still. Nothing could stop a string of profanities, however, when in one swift motion the omega engulfed him in his heat.

“Birdie,” he reached for him with a broken groan, but Dick slapped his hands away and growled. Getting the hint, Jason grabbed the blanket again and let him do whatever he wanted.

And Dick was feeling selfish. He slid up and down his length, setting the pace _he_ liked, disregarding of Jason and his pleasure. For all intents and purposes, he treated him like one of his brightly-coloured dildos conveniently attached to a body of a grown alpha. It should have been demeaning, being so downright objectified, so _why_ in the fresh hell was it so devastatingly hot, ~~and why did Dick go and take a contraceptive shot when Jason needed him to bear his pups~~?!

Dick allowed him a touch only when he forced himself down on his knot. Overtaken with desire to feel him under his palms, Jason grasped his hips hard enough to bruise his golden skin. He needed to hold him, if only to ground himself, because Dick’s breathy moans, that beautiful arch of his back, tight clench of his body – all these sensation were woven into the scent that had Jason under its spell so completely, he could only throw his back and give the omega every last drop of himself.

When his breathing slowed and Jason came back to it, he found himself in a tie with an armful of a sweet, gentle omega, purring happily into his ear – a total one-eighty to the predator from before. He didn’t have enough brain capacity left to question the _what the fuck_ of it all, so he just stared blankly at the ceiling, rubbing Dick’s back with one hand and massaging the aching scent gland on the side of his neck with another.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” Jason said, more so to the ceiling than to Dick himself.

The omega sniggered into his neck, because of course Birdie’s unbridled desires would find it funny.

Damn, he wanted that bite so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to challenge myself a bit as a writer, but I was this close to hitting backspace button on half of this chapter 😱, ~~because how do I even write smut, what was I thinking starting ABO fanfic ><.~~  
> (Big thanks to FrostedEclair for a confidence boost!)
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.


	9. Chapter 9

The heat started to dwindle down on the evening of the following day. Dick was still snuggling up to Jason in a wordless demand for attention and affection, but his desire dulled as the sweetness started fading from his scent and the urgency wasn't there anymore. Having been let out and hopefully sufficiently taken care of, the omega was now retreating, fading back into the subconsciousness.

Jason had no idea how to deal with that. 

He knew the omega wanted him and wanted him _badly_ , reciprocating the need deeply rooted in Jason himself. But by the morning the omega would be gone, letting conscious mind-Dick take control again and what that Dick thought of him, those past two days spent in the nest together, was a question Jason was afraid to ask.

For now, though, Jason held him close, watching his eyelid grow heavy. With each breath he savoured the last drops of sweetness still clinging to his scent. Minutes ticked by, evening melted into the night and Jason let Dick sleep with his head pillowed on his chest, soothing him with a simple caress of a hand rubbing his back. 

He fervently wished the morning would never come.

* * *

The sun was already up when Dick stirred in his embrace, blinking his eyes awake. 

“Hi,” Jason whispered, mindful not to startle him in his drowsy state.

Dick craned his neck to look up at him. His blue eyes were still heavy with sleep but that glazed-over, glassy look associated with heat was gone. “Hi,” he whispered back. His scent was teasingly poking at Jason's alpha, but it distinctively lacked the sweetness.

“Is it over, then?” No further confirmation was necessary, but he whispered his question anyway. He wouldn’t be able to explain why, but raising his voice and disturbing the comfortable silence of the nest felt like a big no-no, as if it would break a spell that Jason wanted to last as long as it possibly could. 

And maybe Dick felt the same way, because he simply nodded, then hid his face in Jason’s chest. When he spoke, his lips brushed his skin; the words felt rather than heard. “I hope my omega didn’t give you too much trouble.” 

Jason hummed, thinking back to the morning the day before, when he really had to go, but the omega point-blank refused to be deprived of skin-to-skin contact even for a second. In the end, had to take care of his business with Dick thrown over his shoulders. Small mercy his Birdie didn’t remember any of that, he supposed. “He was a delight to be around.” He eventually said.

On blue eye peered up at him, sceptical. Jason gave him his most obnoxious grin – the one that used to have Gotham villains foaming at the mouth or weeping for the original boy wonder to come back.

With an amused huff, Dick hid his face again. 

Jason slowly exhaled. Encouraged by the lack of immediate rejection, he ran his fingers down Dick’s spine and then up again, thrilled that a little shudder was evoked by his touch. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel…” Dick trailed off, musing over the question. “Wonderful,” he whispered with an honest surprise. 

Jason blinked down at him, stilling his hand. “Oh?” He questioned. Didn’t he usually feel _wonderful_ after a heat? Save for the last one, that is.

“Mhm,” Dick murmured, but did not elaborate any further. Instead, he wriggled in his arms and Jason, taking the hint, reluctantly let him go.

No amount of anything could have ever prepared him for the sight that graced his eyes scarcely a second later. 

Running a casual hand through his hair, Dick carefully sat up. Red blankets fell away and because there was no god, warm sunlight poured through the window at that exact moment to illuminate his bared, golden skin and cast playful shadows as he stretched his arms and back. He turned around to look at him and _fuck_ , if he had been a _radiant beauty_ after the first heat he had spent in here, then Jason didn’t even know what words he could possible use to describe him now. Nothing in the English language could do him justice, nor in German and nope, what little he remembered of Portuguese wasn’t helpful either. The words simply weren’t there. Nobody bothered to invent them. Centuries of language evolution did not account for Dick Grayson and his pleased omega basking in the morning sun. Natural languages were waving white flag here and so was Jason's brain. Mercy, oh please, _mercy_.

He felt his body sitting up on its own accord. He distantly realised he was gaping like a fool, possibly making choking noises, but he couldn’t think, or breathe, or take his eyes away from Dick.

“My omega’s calm and happy,” Dick said and to rub salt into the gaping wound that was Jason’s mind, he gave him his signature beaming smile.

…And now his alpha was weeping ( _their pups would be strong and beautiful_ ) and conscious mind-Jason felt like weeping too. Except that no, scratch that – he felt like ripping the beating heart out of his chest and offering it, still warm with his blood, for Dick to either take or stomp at. 

So maybe it all started with Jason’s mouth running off like a separate entity with a mind on its own. Maybe it got to this point, because a mere thought of anyone but him laying their grubby hands on his Birdie, whatever the reason, had him two brain cells away from setting the whole world on fire. And maybe he should have known – in the hindsight it was so fucking obvious! – that he wouldn’t be able to let Dick go, but goddammit! That wasn’t the point. 

The point was, he now knew how that sun-kissed skin felt under his fingers. He knew how it was like to have Dick trembling in his arms. Going back to casual acquaintances (on Dick’s part) and helpless pining (on Jason’s) weren’t an option anymore.

And that meant it was time to be brave.

“Thank you, Jay,” Dick whispered as he leaned in, but Jason didn't wait for that pity peek on a cheek. Before his self-preservation instinct could kick in or his conscious mind catch up and talk him out of it, he leaned in as well and kissed him like he had always wanted to. Should Dick claw his eyes out for his audacity, then so be it, he thought. It’s not like he would have much use of them with his heart a sad slab of crushed meat on the floor.

Dick didn't push him away and neither did he claw his eyes out. For one glorious moment he even kissed him back - and his alpha wanted to roar his victory for the whole world to hear - before quickly pulling away, as if shocked by his own actions. 

_Fucking **calm down**_ , Jason told himself sucking in a deep breath and rubbing his palm over his face.

His Birdie was so close he could feel the warmth radiating off his skin. He looked uncertain, maybe even wary, but his pupils were blown out and his face dusted with the telling red - the omega in him recognised Jason's touch and was _delighted_. 

“Jay?” He said short of breath. His lips were reddened from the kiss and Jason really wanted bite them, then sooth the hurt with his tongue. “Are you sure this is what you want?”

Was he sure? **_Fuck yeah_** , he was sure. Since the day they had first fucking met he was sure and so was his alpha, now boldly proclaiming that come hell or high water, he would be the father to any pup Dick might or might not ever give birth to.

“Yes.” He said firmly, resting his forehead on Dick’s. “I am.” He stressed, because his Birdie suddenly looked _troubled_ of all things. “C’mon, baby,” he curled his lips in a grin, determined to come across as confident and smooth at least once in his life when around Dick, not fifteen and hiding an inconvenient boner. “What’s not to like about you?” 

Except that his question proved to be not so rhetorical, after all. Jason watched bemused, as Dick's expression fell and blue eyes looked away. 

"There's plenty,” he said.

…Sorry, what? Jason sat back, gaping dumbly, torn between laughing his ass off at the most ludicrous statement he had heard to that date and asking what the actual hell. As in, seriously, what the hell. 

He was unable to carry out either, though, as his vocal cords appeared to be temporarily frozen. Which actually might have been for the best; as he stared at the forlorn expression on his lovely face, he realised his Birdie wasn't being self-deprecating, he was being honest. 

Many people admired Dick Grayson, but they all seemed to conveniently forget there was more to him that just happiness and beauty. Nope, there were issues and darkness lurking beneath that pretty face and a smile and Jason could warrant a guess that few liked what they saw, when his Birdie dropped pretences and allowed a glimpse at whom he really was.

For Jason, though, none of this changed a thing. As far as he was concerned his Birdie had hung up the moon and the stars and him thinking that Jason, the living (against all odds) and walking definition of fucked-up, was unwilling or unequipped to deal with his ugly was frankly insulting.

He cupped the side of Dick’s face and ran his thumb under one blue eye to get his attention. “Yeah, same here,” he said, finding his voice again. Then, he took a deep breath and steeled himself to deliver the single most embarrassing line he had ever or would have ever utter out loud. But fuck his pride and sense of shame, his Birdie needed to hear it. “Guess we’re a match made in heaven.”

Mic drop, Todd out, _why wasn’t the floor opening when he needed it to swallow him whole?!_

The silence following his statement was deafening. He felt like his whole face was on fire, seconds away from melting off his person.

Jason risked a glance at Dick to see wide blue eyes blinking up at him.

“You have freckles,” he suddenly made an observation, apropos of absolutely nothing. “How come I have never noticed before…?” Dick muttered under his breath, looking at him in wonder.

(He wasn't talking about his freckles at all, was he?)

Hesitantly, Dick leaned in and peeked his cheek, then the corner of his mouth and then Jason was melting inside, because soft lips covered his. When he pulled away soon after, Jason had to chase them, as that kiss, while very sweet, was way too short and so not enough. He had to crush these lips under his own lest he would choke on his own pent-up longing. He had to kiss a surprised gasp off them and gather Dick close, and marvel at how easy it was to touch that golden skin now – and it still wasn’t nearly enough, not by any stretch. He was so fucking emotionally raw after his little epiphany and confession, he needed to feel even closer to his Birdie. 

Taking a leaf out of the omega’s book, Jason kissed his way to his ear and whispered, “can I knot you?”

He heard his gasp and felt his shudder, but what really grabbed Jason’s attention was the sweetness in his scent. Dick choked a small moan and hid his face in the crook of his neck at how sure his fingers were, finding their way between his thighs. Jason couldn’t help but curse, pure filth spilling from his mouth, because even outside of heat his Birdie was so wet for him already.

“Can I?” He whispered urgently, the scent cloying his thoughts.

Dick shuddered again and whispered his answer.

* * *

It was much later when they finally crawled out of the nest and only when their fingertips wrinkled that they got out of the bath. Dick smiled at him in the mirror, carefully reapplying his scent-blocking patches, while Jason starred at him like a besotted fool he supposed he was. Whenever their eyes met, all thought would evaporate from his mind and if not for the sound of Dick’s snigger, he would probably still be gaping at him, frozen in the process on putting on his T shirt.

He didn’t even give a single fuck about being laughed at, because he was just so damn _happy_ , walking in the air while floating on cloud nine. And so what if that sentence made absolutely no sense. He didn’t have to make sense, when everything was wonderful and all was right with the world.

So of course someone unexpected had to jump in through the window he had left open in the living room.

Jason dropped his fork and grab his favourite glock the second he heard a clattering sound on the fire escape and by the time a colourful blur landed on the floor (knocking over one of his potted plants, the fucker! ~~If it was his favourite aroid palm, blood would be spilled!~~ ), the safety was already clicked off. Unfortunately, he recognised the snot-nosed, self-righteous whine before he got to pull the trigger.

“Grayson!” The Demon Brat, because who fucking else, howled as he sprinted to the kitchen where Jason and his Birdie were sitting. “I shan’t permit that foul cad -!”

 _The fuck?_ , Jason thought, guessing that in this equation the _foul cad_ would be him.

“- to blemish your virtue!” The brat barged in, then took in his surroundings and jaw dropped to the floor. Figuratively speaking, of course. 

It was painfully clear that whatever the angry gremlin expected to see, it most certainly was not the aggressive domesticity of his predecessors enjoying brunch. Dick was staring at the menace in surprise, cheeks stuffed with cereal and Jason was holding his glock – and glaring – over a plate of benedict eggs.

Dick swallowed a mouthful of cereal. “Oh, hi Dami. Jay made us food, do you want some?”

“Didn’t the Bat send you off-world?” Jason narrowed his eyes. He wouldn’t put it past the spoiled little shit to ditch his mission in favour of making a nuisance of himself.

The brat sniffed, wrinkling his nose at him. Fucking rude. “Grayson,” he said, turning to his Birdie. His back went ramrod straight. “I have arrived to protect you during your delicate time.”

( _Delicate time_. Who talked like that, Jason wanted to know, WHO.)

“If by _delicate time_ you mean his heat, then you’re late to the party, brat. It’s just passed.” Jason informed him, grinning from ear to ear.

“WHAT?!” The Spawn demanded, looking between Jason and Dick. When it finally sunk in that Birdie was not calling bullshit, but giving a small nod, his bottom lip _trembled_ like he was about to _cry_. It was both grotesquely fascinating and painful to watch. 

“Oh, Dami!” Dick sighed, looking a bit amused and a whole lot uncomfortable.

The brat was already running towards him with his arms outstretched and – 

…what the **hell** did he think he was doing, _crawling on Dick’s lap?!_ And his audacity didn’t end there either, nuh-uh. He actually had the gall to _peel off one of his scent-blocking patches_ and **_burry his face in his neck_** , like he had ANY RIGHT to do that, when **NO PUP** had the right to do that, except the one Jason would put in Dick himself!

His alpha was furious and Jason was fucking livid. He tried to remember why tearing the brat’s limbs out was a bad idea, but for the life of him couldn’t come up with a single reason.

“Dami,” his Birdie sounded strained. “ _We talked about this._ You’re too big for this now.”

“Why do you smell like Todd?”

 _Because we fucked like horny rabbits in springtime_ was what Jason wanted to snarl oh so badly and somehow Dick must have guessed that too, because he threw him a deathly glare promising a world of pain, a whole new dimension of it, should he not keep his answer PG-13. “Because he asked me to scent him and, you know, it’s what omega wants that matters.”

The demon brat actually whined. “But _I_ could have scented you. I’m an alpha.”

Something in Jason snapped.

That’s right, the little shit had presented. Well congratulations, brat! You just lost you pup of not-his-pack privileges. There would be no more special treatment from now on, no more returns to the Bat’s hands only. A kick in the ass was how he would be dealt with, same as the Replacement. Oh, and he would also be held accountable for trespassing on _his_ territory and bothering almost-his omega.

“On that cheery note,” Jason growled, positively seething. He grabbed The Spawn by the scruff of his neck and lifted him up from Dick’s lap. “You outstayed your unwelcome, brat.”

Resolutely ignoring the cries of _unhand me, you ape!_ and the struggling, Jason took him back to the living room, threw him _out_ of the window to the fire escape, then pointedly shut said window in his face, setting on his elaborate locking system. Last but not least, he gave the gawking brat a finger and closed thick red curtains shut.

“Jay?” Dick poked his head out of the kitchen. “Did you just throw Damian out?” He asked, incredulous.

Jason rubbed the back of his head and shrugged, suddenly feeling shy. “He was making you uncomfortable.”

Dick had that expression on his face – like he was about to admit his true feelings on a matter, very strong feelings indeed, ones he didn’t think he had the right to have and kept beating himself up for having, yet was unable to curb them out. “Thank you.”

*

The Post-Heat Alpha Separation Anxiety Syndrome was apparently a thing, because neither conscious mind-Jason nor his alpha was willing to let Dick go back to Blüdhaven.

“Jay,” Dick tried to reason, held immobile in his embrace. He gave up on the attempts to wriggle himself out as they were getting him nowhere. “I live there.”

 _You could live here_ , Jason fortunately didn’t say, as _too intense_ could potentially scare his Birdie away. Instead, he just held him tighter and chased his own scent on his skin.

Dick let out a long suffering sigh. “Would it help at all, if you were there to make sure I got back safely?” He craned his neck to look up at him. “This time going _with_ me, not skulking on a motorcycle three cars away.” He added with a knowing smirk.

Jason groaned and rested his forehead on his shoulder. He knew. Of course he knew and the floor was still not opening to mercifully swallow him whole.

“Though I did think it was very sweet of you to care so much.” 

Jason could feel his cheeks heating up with a blush. And he had been naive enough to think his monthly embarrassment quota was already used up. 

Sensing a possible opening there, Dick pressed on. “We already cleaned your place, so maybe you could stay the night?” He poked Jason’s cheek with a long finger. “If you know what I mean,” he pointedly said, when no reaction was forthcoming.

Oh.

 _Ooooooh_.

“Let me grab my wallet.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewrote this chapter so many times ideka ><.
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.


	10. Chapter 10

Few days after that glorious, _glorious_ heat, Red Hood was back at work.

“One rule I asked you scumbags to follow.” He growled.

There were two of them, as dim-witted wannabe drug lords seemed to always be working in pairs these days. Both were pretty roughed up already when brought in by his men and both of them were now dangling from the ceiling on a thick rope that bound their wrists. Red Hood circled around them like a predator, and they turned their heads trying to follow him with wide, terrified eyes.

“What was that rule, again?” Red Hood asked the thug on the left. He came to a halt and leaned in, his bulky frame towering over the man.

The thug didn’t reply – just whined and shook like a leaf. His tears mixed with snot as they ran down his face.

Pathetic.

“You need to use your words,” Red Hood reminded how the talking worked.

“N-no dealing t-to chi… children!” The thug eventually whimpered, choking on a sob.

“Indeed.” Red Hood nodded. “And where did you say you caught those morons?” He asked one of his lieutenants.

“In a schoolyard.” The man deadpanned. “Dealing to children.”

Red Hood let those words reverberate fully.

“Is there something unclear about how this works?” He cut right in, once the usual combination of sobbing and begging to be let out with a slap on the wrist started. He was honestly curious to know the answer, if there was any, seeing as the small fry like those two never seemed to learn. “You deal to children, you’re dead. So help me, I don’t think it’s humanly possible to put it in terms even simpler than that.”

The thug on the right turned up the volume of his sobs, the thug of the left full out wailed. Both of them shut up, though, when the safety on his gun went off with an audible click.

Which was exactly when his comm buzzed to live. “Boss?”

Red Hood snapped his eyes shut and took a deep, calming breath. “Fucking WHAT NOW?!”

The comm guy sounded both apprehensive and apologetic. “One of the Bats is here.”

God fucking damn it.

Why did he even bother asking? Only the newest Bat Family drama had so impeccable a timing.

“Which one.” Not that it mattered. Be it the Replacement or the Demon Brat, both of them by default were to be kicked in the butt so hard as to send them flying in the direction of the Bat Cave, no questions asked. As far as the dealings with annoying little shits went, Red Hood was at the capacity.

“It's the Bat himself.”

…Oh.

Okay, wow.

 **Fuck**.

“Where?!” He demanded, the safety already clicked back on and his gun put in the holster.

“The meeting room. We’re keeping him company.”

“Boss?”

Red Hood turned to his lieutenant. “Finish them off,” he pointed at the thugs and hurried out of the room.

*

He kicked the door open to the sight of the Bat engaging in – and winning – a starring contest between himself and three of his burliest, scariest men.

“Hello Bat,” Red Hood said when everyone turned to look at him. “To what do I owe the… I should say _the pleasure_ , but that would be a lie.” He made a hand gesture at his men and they gladly took the out, racing each other to the door.

Red Hood couldn’t help but notice that they offered the Bat neither tea nor biscuits.

“So,” he said once the door closed behind his men. He pulled out a chair and slouched on it comfortably, resting his boots on the table. He hoped it would piss the Bat off and if the sudden downturn of his lips was anything to go by – it did. “You finally feel like talking?”

Bruce cleared his throat. “Nightwing spent his last heat with you.”

It wasn't a question, so Red Hood didn't answer.

Batman's expression grew pinched. “Did the two of you…” he cut himself off and instead of using his words, like any well-adjusted human being would, he twitched one of his mimic muscles.

Red Hood frowned, narrowing the lenses in his helmet. “Did the two of us what?”

The same mimic muscle twitched again.

Oh.

 _Ooooooh_.

Wow. Like – wow.

Red Hood knew the Old Bat was shit at human interaction especially when it mattered, but he did not just ask him whether that heat was platonic or not.

“First of all,” he growled, “that is none of your fucking business.” Because it really, really wasn’t and his alpha was _irked_. Red Hood had to take few calming breaths to keep himself in check. “Secondly, it’s still none of your business.”

“Be as it may,” the Bat had the gall to growl back. _Oh no, you bitch_ , _you don't,_ his alpha snarled and the conscious mind-Red Hood wholeheartedly agreed with the sentiment. “I am still Nightwing’s pack alpha.”

He was playing that card, was he? “Then why don’t take it directly to him, huh?”

Actually, he had a good idea why the Bat wouldn't. How, where or with whom an omega would spend their heat was up to said omega only and anyone else's opinion on that matter, most of all their pack alpha's, was strictly - and _violently_ \- unwelcome.

“Unless,” a new thought occurred to him. Hidden under the helmet, his lips curled in a shit-eating grin. “ _You did_. And he chewed you out for it.”

Silent fuming was all the confirmation he needed.

Aw, that's his Birdie. Best omega ever.

“Well, I ain't telling you shit,” Red Hood said, good humour at Bat's misfortune evident in his voice. “If that was all, you can see yourself out.”

Batman didn't leave. He didn't say anything either.

“I'm running on a busy schedule here,” Red Hood prompted, eager to get this over with.

The Bat appeared to be losing a truly spectacular battle with his own locked jaw, though the entertainment value was growing old very fast. Finally, heaving a defeated sight, he yanked his cell phone from his utility belt and pushed speed-dial.

“The fuck you think you’re doing?” Red Hood demanded, but Batman merely leaned in and handed him the phone.

“Humour me,” he whizzed through his clenched teeth.

Red Hood trusted him about as far as he could throw him. Yet, against his better judgement, he tentatively put the phone to his ear. “Hello?”

_“Good evening Master Jason.”_

“Alfred!” Red Hood quickly took his boots off the table and sat up straight.

That was his grandfather, alright?! Maybe not by blood, but in every single way that mattered. It was the old butler who took him under his wing and introduced him to the world of literature. It was Alfred who agreed to and actually did teach him proper English down to the standard pronunciation, when street rat Jason realised Nightwing couldn't understand half the things he was saying in his thick Gotham accent. The Bat could go burn in hell for all Red Hood cared, but if Alfred wanted to speak with him, he was all ears.

_“What Master Bruce is trying and, I presume, failing to say, is that he is sorry.”_

His eyebrows rose on their own accord. “Is he now?” Red Hood eyed Bruce sceptically. He looked like an unholy cross between a bat and the grumpy cat, with his mouth curled in a prefect upside-down U-shape. Nothing about him screamed apologetic to Red Hood.

_“Indeed he is. He realises he should not have brought up his own issues with you and made the conversation on your and Master Dick’s relationship all about them.”_

Well. That was only the most recent transgression on the Bat’s part, but Red Hood supposed he could be persuaded to delude himself into thinking it was a start, baby steps and all that. For the sole reason it was Alfred who vouched for him, though. “And what would you say triggered this soul-searching on his part?”

 _“Master Dick might have played a role,”_ yeah, figures it was the golden child’s doing, _“as he refused to step a foot in the Manor until Master Bruce, and I quote, takes his head out of his ass, unquote.”_

Even if he tried, which he didn’t, Red Hood wouldn’t be able to hold back a delighted cackle.

_“But truth to be told, he has been inconsolable since your last tiff.”_

Now that Red Hood found hard to believe (and he wouldn’t call their last fight a _tiff_ either). He looked at the Bat, but the man was stubbornly scrutinising a spot of dried blood on the table, avoiding the eye-contact.

 _“I would also like to add that Master Bruce is most likely suffering from the Pack Abandonment Syndrome. Apparently it is quite common in single alpha parents his age.”_ And it was known to cause them to act like jerks around the alphas their omega children were interested in, if that one article in the Journal of Omega Behavioural Studies was to be believed. All because they felt threatened and in the Bat’s particular case, it would seem, because he was finally getting a taste of his own medicine – how it felt like to be **replaced** , losing the status of the most important alpha in Birdie’s life. _“I believe Master Bruce can be trusted to deal with the rest of this conversation, now that his_ old butler _did the heavy-lifting.”_

“You’re the best, Alfie,” he said with a sincere smile and hit the end call button. He threw the Bat his cell phone back. “Pack Abandonment Syndrome, huh?” It kinda explained a lot. He knew Batman had a hard time coming to terms with Nightwing’s refusal to nest on his territory, but _damn_.

The Old Bat finally pried his jaw open. “He’s my eldest. My omega child.” He admitted in a small voice and yes, he was actually sulking. Unbelievable. “You won't know what it's like until you have an omega pup of your own. And now he won’t even come to the Manor.”

While Bruce’s belief that Birdie liked him so much he seriously wanted to bite him, thus bond him, thus enter his pack and leave the Bat’s was terribly flattering, this whole situation was quickly becoming way too mushy for Red Hood to know how to handle.

“Listen, Bat.” He wished he had taken his helmet off, if only so could scrub his hand over his face. He – Red Hood, a failed Robin, a street rat, a delinquent, a fuck-up who had been sent to a juvie once and the Justice League never let him forget that – Jason Todd suddenly found himself trusted into the role of intermediary between one of JL’s founding fathers and the golden boy beloved by the whole cape community.

The universe officially stopped making any sense.

He took a deep breath, racking his brains for ideas. “You might be a terrible person and a human failure...” And that was all he got. That and an absolute lack of idea where to go with this. The Bat starring and him and hanging on his every word, as if Red Hood was about to bestow upon him some divine wisdom, wasn’t helping either. “But Nightwing still thinks of you as his dad.” He eventually said in a stroke of inspiration. “ He won’t just abandon you, no matter whom he bites.” Please, _please_ , **_please_** , let it be Jason, **_PLEASE_**. “And if you want him to visit, then for fuck’s sake, do something about your spawn.”

“You and Nightwing -” Batman cut himself off and cleared his throat. “Your…” he made a weird hand gesture which was probably Bat-speak for _relationship_. Damn, the struggle was real and it was painful to watch. “I have no say in it.”

Oh yeah, Nightwing chewed him out good. ~~Just when Jason thought it wasn’t possible to fall even more for him.~~

“If it makes you happy… I just want _both of you_ to be happy.”

…Was he saying what Jason thought he was saying?

He looked at the Bat with a critical eye. The expression on the visible part of his face was a study in discomfort and embarrassment, but there was something oddly sincere about the determined set of his mouth and blotches of hot flush on his cheeks.

Oh fuck. **He was**.

Now Jason was very glad he hadn’t taken off his helmet, after all.

He cleared his throat twice, to make very sure his voice would not come off suspiciously thick or god forbid – wobbly. “Thank you.” He gave Bruce a curt nod and received one in return.

The sheer awkwardness of the situation - two gruff alphas attempting a talk about _feelings_ \- suddenly caught up with them. They both cleared their throats and shied away from the eye-contact.

“Before you inevitably do something to ruin this moment,” Red Hood said calmly, because he was calm and collected, and definitely not emotional, nuh-uh. “How about you get the fuck out.”

Batman grunted his agreement and in a blink of an eye he was gone.

* * *

Later that evening, Red Hood was enjoying the chill in the Gotham air and the cigarette smoke filling his lungs, when he noticed a familiar and very welcome shadow flying across the dark sky towards his rooftop. He quickly dropped his poison of choice and crushed it under his boot.

“Hey,” Nightwing called, once he landed lightly on his feet.

“Hi,” Red Hood said, grinning from ear to ear. He crushed his cigarette under his boot, took few steps and wrapped the vigilante in his arms. He hadn’t expected to see him tonight, what with his Birdie being busy with a new case in Blüdhaven.

“I heard that B payed you a visit.” Nightwing craned his neck to look him in the eyes. His face was flushed and his hair wind-tousled, as if he had just flown all the way to Gotham. What if he had? He had absolutely no reason to swing by the city that night, after all, and yet here he was, in Jason’s embrace and that would mean…

“Jay?” His expression twisted with worry, when Red Hood failed to respond, only held him tighter.

…Birdie really dropped everything and rushed to Gotham just for him. Because he was concerned. Because he _cared_.

(The scent glands on Jason’s neck swelled and flared with pain.)

“Did B say somethi -”

Jason leaned down and kissed him.

His Birdie was surprised, he could tell, but receptive to his affections. He allowed him to deepen the kiss when his lips grew insistent, wrapped his arms around his neck when Jason tangled his fingers in his hair. He bit his lower lip and Jason had to slide one hand to his neck, then lower. A small shiver chased his feather-like touches down Dick’s spine, but his caresses didn’t remain gentle or barely-there for long. He kneaded the firm flesh his hand found and thrilled he could that now, while kissing an answering moan off his Birdie’s lips.

“It’s all good, then?” Dick asked, breathless, when they broke apart. With that small smile playing about his reddened lips, he was so achingly beautiful Jason felt like breaking down crying, joining in the sobs of his alpha. It was just so unfair what this omega was doing to him by simply existing.

Jason took a deep breath, pressing a trail of kisses down the side of his face. His alpha scent clung stubbornly to his Birdie after the heat they had shared, but few days later it was already gone and that was unacceptable. “Will you stay the night?”

“Why?” He cocked his head to the side, even though his lips were tempting him with a knowing smirk. “Do you have something on your mind?”

“As a matter of fact,” he squeezed that firm flesh under his hand again, just to hear him gasp. “I do.”

* * *

The Red Hood Gang already knew the drill.

First, the lookout guy would contact the comm guy, and the comm guy would relay the message to a lieutenant. Then, whomever was present at the base at the moment would scramble all over trying to get things ready and beat their standing record of seven minutes twelve seconds – which was certainly worlds better than that shameful half an hour it took them the first time round, but there was still room for improvement. (After all, the tea they were making and the cookies they were neatly arranging on a plate were meant for Nightwing who would be the head omega of this pack the second he gave their boss his bite. They had to properly show him their respect.) Finally, the newbie would be handed the tray and sent off with a stern order to deliver the refreshment or die trying.

And newbie did his best to deliver Nightwing his tea, he really did, but as soon as he opened the door the rooftop, he knew his mission was doomed to fail. Biting his lips so not to let out a terrified, little _eek!_ , he set the tray down on the rooftop floor, soundlessly closed the door and ran the hell out of there.

Even before they got together, Red Hood had been known to grab every bastard stupid enough leer at Nightwing’s finer features and slam their head through the closest brick wall. With that knowledge heavy on his mind, Newbie was too scared to imagine what his Boss might do with him now for the offence of catching a glimpse of the vigilante wrapped up in his embrace like that.

His face was still on fire and hands shaking, when he stumbled back to the base. “Twenty bucks boss gets that bite during next heat,” he said weakly, when ordered to report on the refreshment delivery status.

Somebody whistled, someone else giggled. There were dreamy sights and wriggling eyebrows, as well as _wows_ and _words_ , and _oh damns_ dropping all around. Above all else, there was an air of excited anticipation. If shit was this serious, then it was time to go back into action.

“Deal,” the lieutenant bared his teeth in a truly horrifying smile, already gearing up.

*

When the Red Hood’s goons stormed the meeting of the most prominent crime lords in Blüdhaven this time round, said crime lords hardly even looked up from the mess of blueprints and estimates spread all over the table between them.

“Yeah, yeah,” the mobster so fond of slamming his fist before, merely waved them off. “No funny business, we get it. We can’t have Nightwing so stressed out he won’t go into his heat.”

The lieutenant with the ugly scar slashed across his face frowned. This wasn’t going according to plan at all. Ready cooperation on the part of Blüdhaven’s big shots might have been a good thing when it came to business, but they were fucking _looking forward_ to terrorising this smelly armpit slash dumpster of a city in the name of true love and their boss’ happiness. (Also, about half of them were closeted romantics and watching Nightwing slowly but surely return Red Hood’s feelings gave them life. They wanted to give back somehow.)

“Just for your information,” the not-a-fist-slammer-anymore set down his Cuban cigar and levelled them with a hard look. “We need Nightwing to go into heat as well. We bet a shitload of money he’s gonna do _the thing_ right after.”

*

Meanwhile at the Crime Alley, in a shadowy alleyway somewhere behind an overflowing dumpster, the blond, the redhead and the brunette were taking yet again their smoke break together.

“Have you heard?” Brunette asked with a grin. “Hood helped Nighty through his heat.”

“Did him so good, even Bat gave them his blessing,” Redhead added her two cents, then cackled in delight.

Indeed, Blond had heard all about it. How could she not, when Blüdhaven where she went for business sometimes was nothing short of a huge betting pool these days. “Five bucks Nighty bites him during his next heat.”

Redhead considered, breathing out a cloud of smoke. “Nah, Nighty's more classy than that. I say he bites him right after.”

Brunette spluttered in an outrage. “C'mon, Hood's a hunk! Ten bucks Nighty gives it even before his next heat comes!”

Blond and Redhead looked at each other, mulling over the offer.

“Deal.”

*

The following day, during morning news segment on channel four, Mayor of Blüdhaven was giving an interview on impromptu revision of the city budget.

“…So there are many opportunities for young couples. Greater founding will go to the day care centres and kindergartens, so no working parent would have to worry about their pup -”

“But Mr Mayor,” the news presenter finally managed to get a word in the edgeways. “ _Why_ the sudden turn towards social policy? During your campaign, you didn’t -”

The mayor ignored her. “So I would like to take this opportunity,” he look straight into the camera lenses. Obeying the wordless command, the operator zoomed in on his face and the crazed look in his eyes. “To urge **ALL** THE OMEGA CITIZENS of this beautiful city not to deny themselves the bliss of mated life. Find the courage in yourself and give your chosen partners, WHOMEVER THEY MIGHT BE, that bonding bite during, I don’t know, just on top of my head for no reason at all, YOUR NEXT HEAT, PLEASE.”

The news presenter exchanged stunned looks with her co-host. Her producer, standing behind the camera man, helplessly shrugged – he had no idea what the hell was happening either.

*

Jason thought he was doing a great job sneaking in and out of his flat unnoticed, but apparently Nancy was only biding her time.

“Good morning, Jay!” She ambushed him on his way to take out garbage. “How have you been?” She asked with that knowing, lecherous smirk, so terribly out of place on her wrinkled face.

While Jason knew exactly what she was referring to, he made a conscious decision to ignore the double-meaning of her words. “I’ve been well, thank you.” His answer was perfectly polite, if a tad curt.

Nancy wolf whistle and wiggled her eyebrows.

Jason felt a furious blush taking over his face. He needed to not have this conversation.

“Don’t worry, Jay,” she screeched and patted him on the arm. “You’ll get that bite soon enough.”

Unbeknownst to him, Nancy had a five dollar bill that said it would happen after their next heat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t know, don’t look at me ><.  
>  ~~Everybody ship JayDick 2.0 XD.~~
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Non-explicit description of violence in the first part of the chapter.

If running into one of the Bats while on the job was mildly annoying at best, plans-shot-through troublesome at worst, then crossing paths with Nightwing, especially in those days leading up to his next heat, was a spectacle of confusion saturated with pure nonsense.

It was supposed to be a fairly simple case of busting a meetup of two gangs. They were planning some hush-hush joint operation on the side and off the books, so Red Hood felt compelled to remind them why doing just that on _his_ territory was a big no-no. He intended to walk in, casually swipe the floor with their sorry asses and cash in his forty percent.

So of course, nothing went according to the plan.

Whatever joint project these morons had in mind was obviously doomed to fail, as their little meeting dissolved into a brawl even before Red Hood and his men stormed the lovely venue of their choosing and of fucking course said venue – a nightclub (why the hell was it always a nightclub?!) – turned out to be but a front to the operations of some Blüdhaven scum who apparently confused Gotham with the diseased flea on a disfigured cockroach they called their city. And to the surprise of absolutely nobody ever in the entire history of the universe, the confused Blüdhaven scum was being investigated by Nightwing.

Needless to say, supposedly fairly simple case quickly became the kind of situation when nobody knows who or why they are beating up to a bloody pulp anymore.

“Hood!” Nightwing shouted somewhere to his left and Red Hood admired the set of lungs on his Birdie; he was able to make his voice carry over the sounds of gunfire, fits fighting, kicking opponents in the various body parts and chairs being broken over thugs’ heads. “With all the love in the world -!”

While the fighting did not cease at all, half of the room broke up into a series of actual fucking wolf whistles. Red Hood promptly shot in the face a non-descript thug without his insignia, who had the nerve to actually fucking _coo_.

The fuck was wrong with these people?

“- The fuck are you doing here?!”

Red Hood grabbed a random henchman, picked him over his head and threw at the crowd of thugs blocking his view. They all fell down to the floor like pins at the end of the bowling lane. Perfect score, ten out of ten. “Could have asked you the same question!” He shouted right back, rising his eyes to catch the sight of the vigilante.

What he saw made his blood boil.

His Birdie obviously came to this shithole on undercover mission, as he wasn’t wearing the Nightwing suit. Oh no, he definitely _wasn’t_. In fact, he so _wasn’t_ that Red Hood felt the overwhelming urge to gauge the eyes of every single scumbag in the premises, because his Birdie had put on those fucking leather trousers and (his brain had serious troubles processing the visual stimulus) a _crop top_. One hugged his firm behind so fine Red Hood didn’t know what to do with himself; the other exposed his sculptured abs in a way that ought to be for Red Hood’s viewing pleasure **only**.

That alone was more than enough for his alpha to see red and activate _the fifty-something scandalised alpha father_ as means to channel his rightful indignation. But no, of course there was fucking more. His very own Birdie was busy fighting with a semi-notorious henchman of the confused Blüdhaven scum, who obviously enjoyed the experience _immensely_. The fucker had a big, fat, lecherous grin on his face and every single one his blocks or attacks somehow ended up as a grope.

“NIGHTWING!” Red Hood roared, even though the rapidly rising bloodlust threatened to choke him.

A surprised shout came from the far end of the room. “Nightwing?!”

Quickly followed by, “NO, the hell is he doin’ here, he supposta be fuckin’ relaxin’ in Blüd!”

And also, “shit, he can’t get stressed, else he won’t go into a -!”

As well as the answering roar of, “NIGHTWING, I HAVE A SHITLOAD OF MONEY RIDIN’ ON YOU DOIN’ THE THING!”

But Red Hood didn’t hear any of that. The shouting faded into the background noise, the fighting around disappeared along with his peripheral vision, because his furious gaze zoomed in on the semi-notorious henchman, a fucking inferior alpha, _accidentally_ slipping his grubby hand to cop a feel of his Birdie.

So he chose death.

Red Hood stormed their way, strutting in a straight line, pushing and punching, and shooting the thugs out of his way. He forcibly inserted himself between Nightwing and his opponent, deaf to any words of protest from the vigilante. Deaf to everything, really, except of the terrified whimper from the fucker who had dared to leer at him his Birdie, followed by a cry of pain when Red Hood head-butted him, then sent the scum flying towards the closest wall.

Nightwing jumped in front of him. Even with his blue eyes hidden behind a domino mask, the sight of his lovely face instantly quelled the murderous furry flooding Red Hood’s mind with Pit-green. But unfortunately, that was a que for his inner scandalised alpha to make its appearance.

“What the hell are you doing?!” Nightwing demanded, pushing on his chest in an attempt to show him – as successful as moving a brick wall would have been.

With a sense of déjà vu, Red Hood retorted right back. “ **What the hell are you wearing?!** ” He tore his jacket off and put in on Nightwing’s shoulders with the air of finality. It _would_ stay right there and protect a least a bit of his Birdie’s modesty.

Nightwing bristled. “DO NOT try to pull some alpha patriarchal bullshit on me, Hood, or so help me -!” He shook the jacket off.

“Oh no, you’re fucking keeping that on!” He roared, putting it right back on him.

…They both failed to notice that the fighting around them ceased completely, as all the thugs, henchmen, Red Hood’s men, Gotham’s low-lifes and Blüdhaven’s scum unanimously decided that bearing witness to the hottest, newest piece of Bat-related drama in the form of a grotesque scuffle over a leather jacket simply took priority. Which was probably why everyone failed to notice a lone, bloodied, not Gotham nor Blüdhaven-native henchman click the safety on his gun off and point it at the sliver of exposed skin below Red Hood’s helmet.

Or rather, everyone except Nightwing. He gasped in the middle of the shouting match, then without preamble flung himself up into the air – and every single soul in the night club watched him do his signature quadruple somersault, like a bunch of delighted children – landed on the unknown henchman’s shoulders and using his grip on his neck, dragged him to the floor. Before anyone could comprehend what was happening, Nightwing had the henchman helpless on his back and his weapon far out of his reach.

Red Hood blinked dumbfounded at the unexpected development, his clever comeback regarding Nightwing’s modesty dying on his tongue. “What -?”

A low, long growl that rose goose bumps with a spike of animalistic fear drowned out his words, his thoughts and all the sounds of a club brawl.

The thing is – though widely known, the story of a French princess and a lowly knight was considered either a gross exaggeration or a parable on omega’s temper. Red Hood himself was partial to the exaggeration theory, despite watching just a week before a viral video depicting a willowy omega chasing a grown bear away from the backyard where his pup had been playing.

Now, though, seeing people hastily back away from his Birdie, who was sitting astride on the henchman and pummelling him without mercy – _because the fucker had tried to take Red Hood out_ – he realised the famous story was one hundred percent accurate. Downplayed, if anything.

(Was that how lion cubs felt when being protected by their mother? ~~If so, Jason needed Dick to have~~ ~~his pups so badly.~~ )

“Babe?” Red Hood called, hurrying to his side. He put his hands on Nightwing’s shoulders to get his attention. “I think he’s had enough.” Personally, Red Hood wouldn’t care, if the fucker kicked the bucket, but he knew his Birdie would. And that puddle of blood looked well on its way to lethal, in Red Hood’s humble opinion.

As if a switch was flipped, Nightwing jumped to his feet and Red Hood found himself with an armful of sweet, caring omega.

“Oh my god, Hood!” His Birdie fretted, running his hands all over him to check for injuries. “Are you okay?!”

“Um,” he intelligently said.

“Hey, boss?” One of lieutenants called.

And the switch flipped again. Nightwing _bared his freaking teeth_ and pushed him firmly behind his back. He let out a growl so damn intimidating, even Red Hood felt the fine hair dusting his forearms rising in fear. Not only his own poor lieutenant, but all the thugs and henchmen in the room dropped their weapons, as if burned, and rose their hands in an universal gesture of surrender.

(Now that was just unfair. Red Hood never inspired that kind of fearful respect and _he_ was the big, bad crime lord, and alpha to boot.)

“Boss, what should we do?” The lieutenant whimpered when Nightwing made him specifically a target of his next growl, seemingly for the transgression of breathing in Red Hood’s direction.

Great question. Red Hood would like to know the answer as well, because no one ever taught him how to deal with an omega gone feral.

For the lack of a better idea, he ran a gentle hand up and down Nightwing’s arm. “Hey, Birdie,” he leaned down to whisper into his ear. “It’s okay. I’m fine. You can calm down now.”

Since it didn’t seem to be working, he carefully turned him around and offered his neck for scenting. The vigilante immediately wrapped him in a crushing hug, nosing his scent gland.

“I need to take him out of here,” Red Hood addressed his lieutenant and everyone present on the premises frantically nodded their agreement. “Wrap it up.”

“No more funny business off the books, Red, we swear!” Heads of the Gotham gangs tearfully pleaded, “Just don’t sic your omega on us again!”

Red Hood ignored them. “C’mon, Birdie, let’s go.” He picked Nightwing up, then turned towards the exit. The crowd of bloodied thugs in various stages of beat up parted for them like the Red Sea.

*

The Newbie in the Red Hood’s gang was so excited he couldn’t contain himself.

“Like the French princess!” He squealed, putting the handcuffs on the Blüdhaven crime lord Nightwing had been after. Boss said to _wrap it up_ , so they would leave the guy to be detained by the police.

The crime lord snorted. “Gotham, Blüdhaven, same freakshow. Should have moved to the west coast, like my ma told me.”

* * *

In the end, Red Hood decided to smuggle Nightwing back to his actual flat.

The task was by no means an easy one; his Birdie was overprotective and clingy to the point of restricting his movements. And did he mention overprotective? Because it really bear repeating. Nightwing growled at anything and everything he perceived as a threat and that included freaking pigeons on the fire escape. He was _this_ close to going homicidal on the flock when one of them shook its wings and cooed in Red Hood’s general direction.

Jason felt exasperated yet oddly flattered. (And low-key horrified.)

Maybe being a good alpha wasn’t about the strength to keep the omega safe, he mused as he gently guided Dick inside his flat away from the traumatised birds. Maybe it was about the strength to keep the rest of the world safe from an omega.

Acting on some innate knowledge, he went around the flat with a very uncooperative Dick dragging behind him like a sack of potatoes attached to his waist, gathering pillows and blankets to clumsily put together a sad excuse of a nest. He convinced his Birdie to let go of him long enough to take his skimpy outfit off and put on some of Jason’s unwashed clothes, rich in his alpha scent. Then, he wrapped him in a red quilt and his arms and like that they laid down in the nest. Should the sense of safety and his scent not help calm him Birdie down, then he honestly had no idea what would.

Fortunately, about half an hour later, Dick finally snapped out of it.

“Oh my god,” he gasped in horror against Jason’ chest. “I can’t believe _I almost went feral_.”

A strong sense of relief washed over Jason. He pressed a kiss to his hair, glad to have his Birdie back. “Hate to break it down on you, baby,” he grinned and just couldn’t help teasing him a little, “but there was no _almost_ about it.”

Dick groaned and moved to hide his face in the crook of his neck.

“I mean, I’m flattered.” His remarked sounded causal, but he meant his words. After all, it was common knowledge that omegas didn’t go feral for just anyone. No, that fierce protectiveness was bestowed only upon the pups they gave birth to and – his grin grew even wider – their _mates_. “And it’s good for business too. No low life’s ever gonna cross Red Hood again, now that it’s known Nightwing has my back.” _And beats the shit out of random thugs, just for me_ , went unsaid, but damn!

Jason was in love. 

Dick didn’t say anything, only held him tighter.

Jason frowned. Sure, being taken over by one’s omega or alpha so completely was rather embarrassing, but he didn’t think the situation called for this level of mortification.

Unless something else he didn’t know about was at play here.

“Hey,” he called and ran a comforting hand up and down Dick’s back. “You wanna talk about it?”

“No.”

Yeah, like hell was Jason letting it go, no put intended. If it got his Birdie this upset, then so help him, they will have that conversation. He acquiesced, though, not to push the issue right this second, pretty sure it would prove counterproductive, ending up with Dick either lashing out at him or shutting him out completely.

Instead, Jason let his fingers wander up Dick’s spine, then to the side of his neck. Touching the scent-blocking patch his Birdie still wore, he remembered a curious piece of information he had come across during his foray into researching all things omega, with the emphasis on distressed one. “Can I peel this off?” He asked.

He felt Dick nod against his shoulder.

Next second, Jason was breathing in his scent. _The excitement, the thrill, the self-assurance_ filled his lungs and he felt himself come alive – like it wasn’t the oxygen every single cell in his body craved, but the scent. It carried that awful tinge, though, the one his alpha now associated with almost his omega’s distress and that would not do at all.

His brows creased in concentration, as his fingertips danced over the side of Birdie’s neck, palpating for the tell-tale bump of a scent gland. Once they found it, Jason applied more pressure, massaging it in a slow, circular motion.

Dick gasped at the intimate touch and in a blink of an eye, melted into the puddle of relaxed, purring goo.

Jason smiled.

“Why are you still covering your scent?” He inquired sometime later, his fingers never stopping their ministrations. He was genuinely curious. Nightwing’s designation was very much out of the bag and Red Hood was fucking livid when he found out his own men had played a major part it making happen, but Nightwing himself shrugged it off, claiming it had been more of an open secret anyway and sweet-talked him out of choking the Newbie.

Yet, he kept using the patches.

“It’s something my family used to do.” Dick murmured, his breath a touch of warmth on Jason’s skin. “A tradition, on my mother’s side. When my parents married, dad started covering his scent glands too.”

“Why?”

Dick hummed, gathering his thoughts. “Because it’s private. Because it’s meant to be cherished.” He slurred his words a little, in his relaxed state. “Because through scent you can… see a person for whom they really are.” He nuzzled the side of Jason’s neck. “And unlike words, scents don’t lie.”

Huh.

“Because it’s _ours_.” There was a darker undertone to his words, hinting at a deeper meaning Jason failed to grasp. “Everything else can taken away from us, but not the scent.”

Jason carefully massaged the scent gland. Though terribly curious, he swallowed his question, willing Dick to elaborate. His Birdie was surprising tight-lipped on the subject of his family and his childhood at the Haly’s Circus. He kept the knowledge and the memories to himself, guarding them jealously, possessively, refusing everyone a glimpse into that part of his life. Dick sharing like that was a rare treat.

“It’s anyone’s guess, where they picked the tradition and got that notion.” He eventually said. “I don’t know all that much about this side of the family. Only that they had been travellers for generations, before they settled down in Romania.”

“So your mom was a Romanian American?” Jason carefully probed. He found Dick’s family history quite fascinating and what little he could share on the subject of his own blood relations was better left unsaid.

Dick shook his head. “No. She was Romanian. And so am I.”

**_What._ **

(How come it was the first time he heard any of this?!)

Jason was sure it was a teasing smirk his Birdie was hiding in the crook of his neck, as he most likely commented on his confusion in a foreign language. His amusement disappeared, though, the second he switched back to English.

“I mean, now I have American passport too, but…” He trailed off. He let out a little chuckle but the sound didn’t carry any happiness. Jason instantly hated it. “A curse of a circus kid, I suppose. I come from everywhere, but I’m native to nowhere. Not even to Romania,” he reluctantly added, as if unwilling to let those words be spoken out loud. “And most certainly not to Gotham.”

Surprised, Jason stilled his fingers. “What? Come on, you’ve been living here for ages!” He scoffed. The idea of Dick Grayson, the very first Boy Wonder and widely respected (not to mention lusted after) Nightwing being _foreign_ to Gotham was preposterous.

At his Birdie’s growl, he quickly resumed massaging his scent gland.

“But I’m not _from_ here. Not like you and B are. I used to resent you for that a little,” he whispered the last part.

His eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?” He thought the cold shoulder Nightwing had sometimes given him stemmed from Jason taking up the Robin mantle. Taking under consideration his own general distaste towards everything Tim Drake, he couldn’t say he didn’t understand the sentiment.

“Mhm,” Dick hummed and nuzzled the side of neck again. “B probably never told you, but after that mission to Sarajevo…”

Meaning, after Joker put him six feet under, with a crowbar, a bomb and a deranged smile on his face. Jason closed his eyes shut, carefully not dwelling on that.

Fortunately, his Birdie was still talking. “I mourned you and my omega was devastated. I didn’t go into heat for almost two years.”

“ **WHAT?!** ” Jason roared, alarmed and disbelieving, and just capital letters, bold font _what?!_ followed by a huge question and exclamation mark. His alpha frantically scratched at his conscious mind, raging and demanding to be let out _but there was no out_ , and for fuck’s sake, one _did not_ simply sprung an information like that! Not on an unsuspecting person, not without **any** warning and especially not, when said unsuspecting person was chilling and enjoying a pillow talk!

He made to sit up, as he _needed_ to see Dick’s face, to look into his blue eyes. His Birdie, however, held him down and buried his face in his neck even further, shying away from Jason’s look.

“B didn’t say anything at the time,” he whispered quickly, as if he feared he wouldn’t be able to let the words out otherwise. His lips were brushing his skin and that did absolutely big, fat _nothing_ to calm Jason down. “And I assumed it was normal for the head omega to mourn a lost pack member, but…”

But not for that long, _it wasn’t._ Not for just any pack member and they both knew that.

“Back then…” Dick paused. There was a new tinge in his scent, something calm and fresh. Jason breathed it greedily, like it held a remedy to his alpha’s distress.

“What I’m about to say makes absolutely no sense.” Dick chuckled. The sound was nervous, self-deprecating. “Back then, you smelt like _not yet_ and I didn’t know who you were to me. Still, your…passing, it messed my omega up badly.

“But now I know who you are to me. And tonight, if -” He cut himself off and didn’t say anything else.

Laying there, in the mess affectionately called a nest, with his eyes opened wide and his alpha lurking right on the other side of his conscious mind, Jason scarcely dared to breath.

But he _had_ to know. “And who am I to you?”

Dick chose to tell him without words. He slowly turned his head, then kissed the side of his neck, right on his scent gland. A simple gesture.

A confession wrapped in a promise.

“I’m sorry,” Dick whispered. “I still need some time. To process.”

Jason slowly exhaled. He was scared all of sudden, gripped with the fear of a man on the verge of seeing his innermost dreams come true. He tried to remain calm, but his alpha was unable to contain himself. His heart was beating like crazy.

“It’s okay, baby. Take all the time you need.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...but not too long, people have bets to win, amirite? XD
> 
> A quality pillow talk *^^*.
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.


	12. Chapter 12

Dick came knocking on his door on the evening three weeks later, already on the cusp of his next heat. He greeted Jason with a smile and a kiss, and while the former weakened his knees and the latter heated up his blood, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something about his Birdie was different; he just couldn’t put his finger on what it was exactly. He watched him casually shrug off his jacket, then peel off his scent-blocking patches, but it wasn’t until Dick looked up at him from under his eyelashes, his eyes knowing, that Jason noticed the blue of his irises seemed deeper, darkened with resolve that wasn’t there before. There was no need to ask what it was about, because his scent became the air Jason breathed, the air that dissolved in his blood and was a part of him now, impossible to escape. And the scent held no lie.

It didn’t tease nor poke at his alpha this time. No, it brought about a different sensation and Jason knew its meaning, as surely as he could feel the racing of his heart and the heat rising on his face, both amplified by emotion bleeding into his conscious mind. A very special kind of joy – one still struck in disbelief – had his face splitting into a huge grin, because at some point within past few weeks his Birdie had made up his mind.

Dick smiled right back at him and because he was a little shit, he climbed on his toes and kissed Jason on the side of his neck. Nothing much, barely a brush of lips against his skin, yet his scent glands flared with pain, so fucking ready for that bite.

Dick slipped away from his embrace, snickering in wicked delight.

…Why was Jason dealing with this, again? Oh right, because he _loved him_ and wanted to rise with him whatever his Birdie felt comfortable rising, be it a full flat’s worth of aroid palms or an actual pup. Whichever it would be, Jason wanted _in_.

And speaking of a full flat’s worth of aroid palms – Jason certainly wouldn’t mind another pair of hands tending to them, as he might have accidentally turned his place into a potted, drought-resistant jungle.

What else was he supposed to do, though? He desperately wanted to show almost, _almost_ -his omega that he was a good alpha, perfectly capable of taking care of him no matter the circumstances, and if the last heat and the _gone feral_ incident taught them anything, it was the necessity of having materials for a temporary nest within easy reach at all times. So Jason swallowed his pride, found his way back to Home Depot and purchased a truly insane amount of red blankets and pillows, to great enthusiasm of the staff on duty, of course. Once he put them haphazardly all over the place, instead of the expected sense of accomplishment, came a drawing sense of horror, for his flat now looked like a deluxe suite in a heat house for single omegas, which in this equation would make Jason a sleazy companion alpha for hire, which was definitely _not_ the message he wanted to send here. (Also, the onslaught of colour was so overwhelming, it put even him on edge.)

Back to Home Depot Jason went, then, intending to balance out all the red with more greenery. Miraculously, no blood was spilled, but by the time he made it to the cashier, he swore that if one more person approached him with _sir, may I interest you in our wide selection of pots_ , followed by a giggled _from redwood to mahogany_ , he would break every last pot on the red-spectrum on their head.

Which brought him back to the present and the look of surprise on Dick’s face, as he took in the living room. His lips were curling into a teasing smirk and the following ridicule seemed inevitable, so Jason quickly thrust at him an armful of his unwashed, thoroughly scented clothes.

“For the nest,” he offered.

Dick threw him amused glance, but graciously accepted the pile. “I will call you when I’m ready.”

* * *

Jason didn’t remember much of that heat.

How long he waited for his Birdie to call him, he honestly wouldn’t be able to tell. Maybe it was an hour, maybe it was the whole night. It didn’t matter. In his memories, time wasn’t measurable in quantitative units. Words like _minutes_ and _hours_ didn’t hold any meaning. There was only an inexplicable state of _not yet_ Jason remembered being stuck in, _not yet_ that just wouldn’t turn into _finally_. He was no stranger to the nervous pacing in front of the closed door while Dick worked on a nest, but this time the impatience had a different flavour.

(Was that how children felt on the Christmas Eve, anxiously awaiting their presents? Jason wouldn’t know; he never got any gifts from his asshole of a father, nor the broken shell of his mother, and by the time he got one from Bruce, he was too jaded to care.)

He changed into his newly acquired crimson bath robe at some point – showing up butt naked still seemed so uncouth – and thought about the similar one he had laid out in the spare bedroom. Would his Birdie wear it, he wondered, like he did that old T shirt during his last heat? Jason low-key hoped he would, but it was _not yet_ , still _not yet_.

Didn’t his Birdie say that Jason used to smell like _not yet_ …?

Then, Dick was calling him to his (their?) nest and wrapping not just himself, but both of them in red quilt and blankets. His eyelids were heavy with that peaceful slumber he craved, though, his omega ready to let himself vulnerable, safe in the knowledge Jason would be a badass for him, and Jason was unable to deny his Birdie anything.

Maybe Jason himself fell asleep. Maybe he didn’t. He knew that he held Dick in his arms, that he ran his fingers up and down his back in a gentle caress – he could still recall the softness of that golden skin, hidden underneath all the red (or maybe it was a memory of some other _not yet_?). Jason laid there with Dick, breathing in his calm scent until it wasn’t calm anymore.

He remembered the taste of his slick and the exact shade of blue in his eyes, when Jason moved in him, was forever burned in his mind. But then, Dick – _the omega_ – pressed a kiss to his scent gland, then another, and _another_ , and after that everything was a blur of sensation, every caress dragging Jason deeper under his spell.

There were moments of clarity, few and far between. He vaguely recalled his Birdie breathing down his neck, when he leaned out of the nest to rummage through the fridge – he had moved it to the spare bedroom for the duration of Dick’s heat. And he was sure he coaxed the omega to drink some water a few times. But sooner or later, Dick’s lips would find his neck again and sharp arousal would melt his thoughts.

* * *

It was daytime when time started to matter again.

Dick was still asleep, his head pillowed on Jason’s chest. His scent was calm and it lacked the sweetness – a sure sign his heat was over. Careful not to rouse him, Jason freed his hand from the octopus grip his Birdie had on him and touched the side of his neck. It felt tender and his skin was hot to touch, but under his fingertips he didn’t feel anything that might have resembled a wound from the bite.

His lips thinned.

Dick stirred. He nuzzled his chest, then fluttered his eyes open. When he looked up at him, his eyes were clear and aware.

Jason’s heart felt cold.

“Is it over?” He asked, doing his best to keep the bitterness of out his voice, because he was being stupid. His Birdie never said he would give him the bite as soon as he crawled into the nest with him. It was Jason who had assumed, had been fucking hopeful, that the bite would have already been there by the end of the heat, what with all those kisses the omega pressed to his neck.

There was nothing to be upset about.

Dick hummed his confirmation. He freed himself from the cocoon of red blankets and slowly sat up. He had one arm in the crimson bathrobe Jason had laid out for him before, the contrast between its colour and to the golden hue of his skin alluring. Light and shadows caressed his Birdie, as he stretched his back and arms, so devastatingly beautiful it felt like an insult to injury.

He let his arms drop to his sides, then turned around to look at Jason. “So how are you… _Oh my god, Jay_!” Dick exclaimed, wide-eyed, when his gaze slid to his neck.

Is if answering an inaudible call, Jason sat up too, shaking off of the quilt and blankets as he went. He let Dick fret over the…love bites, he guessed? Yeah, a whole plethora of them all over his neck, but not the fucking _bite_.

“I’ve lost control during my heat, I almost bit you…!” Dick hurriedly whispered, regretful. His fingers danced over Jason skin, as he examined the bruises of his own doing. “I’m so sorry, Jay.”

Okay, **no**. “Why?” This time he couldn’t hide his bitterness.

Dick sat back on his heels to look him in the eye. His face was a picture of honest confusion. “Why what?”

Oh, for fuck’s sake. “Would it be so terrible, if you gave me your bite?”

Now that he said it out loud, he couldn’t help but wonder about it himself. As if to answer his own question, a memory came back to him, of his confrontation with the Bat scarcely few days after the very first heat Dick had spent in his place. _At the end of the day you are still a crime lord_ , the Bat said then and damn, maybe he did have a point. Despite everything, even that _father’s blessing_ Bruce gave him not so long ago, Jason still was – and would always be – just _that_. A crime lord. Batman’s greatest mistake. A failed Robin. A street rat, a delinquent for whom there was no place in the Team of glorified sidekicks, because Jason Todd was no boy scout, but oh, have you heard? _He had been sent to a juvie once, honestly, what was Batman thinking…!_

…While Dick was everything golden and beautiful, and could do just fine without the sad slab of meat that was Jason’s heart.

And he really thought that Dick might want to bond with him. What a joke.

Dick’s eyes grew wide with understanding. “Oh my god, Jay, no!” He fervently shook his head. “Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not -!” He cut himself off and shook his head again, visibly upset. “It’s about _consent_!”

Jason slowly blinked. The meaning of Dick’s words didn’t register at first, nor at second, (nor at third).

“Look,” Dick leaned in closer and peered up at him. His blue eyes were earnest. “I’m omega. When it comes to mating and bonding I have all the power. And this,” his finger mapped the edges of a love bite, one of so many, “is abuse of power.” His lips twisted down at the corners, unhappy. “I can’t control myself when in heat and that can affect your alpha too; you’re not in your right mind either. I’m upset, because this is important and I want to do it properly, when you’re able to tell me to get lost. I don’t want to start _this_ ,” he gestured between them, “with expression of my power over you. Going in, I want you to have as much power as I do.”

Groaning, Jason leaned in and rested his forehead on Dick’s bare shoulder. He was touched, he really was, and under literally any other circumstances he would very much appreciated his Birdie giving their relationship so much thought, but goddammit!

He just wanted that bite. Whenever, however Dick felt like giving it, Jason would have fucking taken it.

And hadn’t Jason made his feelings and thought on the matter so abundantly clear already? C’mon, it wasn’t like Dick could have ever doubted how much of a goddess he was in Jason’s eyes!

…Could he?

Maybe Jason should have followed that train of thought just to see where it would take him, but in his emotional state he put his foot in it instead, with an exasperated, “why the hell do you have to be so goddamn wholesome?!”

Dick went tense.

“What?!” He bristled, shaking Jason off his person. “Well, _excuse me_ for respecting you! And hoping for a healthy start to our _bonded life_!” Crossing his arms over his chest, he turned his back to him and sulked.

Jason scrubbed his hand over his face. He took a deep breath, but it was full of Dick’s agitated scent; it did little to help him calm down.

( _The omega is upset_ , his alpha whispered urgently, _fucking **do something**_.)

“Hey,” he hesitantly called. He sneaked his arms around his Birdie and drew him in, pressing his back against his chest.

Dick didn’t deign him with response, but didn’t shake him off either.

“Your heat’s over, isn’t it?” Jason asked.

A sharp nod.

“Am I in my right mind now?”

He retorted without missing a bit, because he just wouldn’t be a pissed-off Dick Grayson, if he hadn’t lashed out. “Are you ever?”

Okay, _ouch_.

Jason really needed to get them on the same page and with Dick this upset, he had to bring out the big guns. Which in this case was a code name for the laying himself completely bare kind of brutal honesty and meant kissing what was left of his pride goodbye forever.

“Listen Birdie,” he said in his calmest, most reasonable voice. “I will say this once.”

Oh fuck, he was actually going to say it out loud. He felt his face heat up, as he steeled himself to rip off that plaster. “If it was up to me, every single scent gland in your body would’ve already been bitten into,” he swallowed. “And you’d be heavy with my pup.”

Silence. Jason was kinda glad he couldn’t see Dick’s face, nor Dick could see his.

“There’s never been a doubt in my mind.” He soldiered on, putting his feelings into words. He would have lost his confidence very quickly, speaking in this resounding silence, had it not been for Dick’s scent – it was changing, no longer agitated. “But it’s _you_ who’s calling all the shots. And I need you to be sure. Because I am…”

A fuck up. A street rat. ( _Bad news, that boy. Should Mr Wayne have taken him in?_ )

“Who I am,” he eventually said. “And if you were to wake up tomorrow and regret everything, because what I am is not good enough… It would fucking break me.”

~~And his alpha would burn the world.~~

He was looking into blue eyes again and there was that tinge in Dick’s scent, calm and fresh. Jason found he could breathe a little easier.

“An omega wants what omega wants,” Dick quoted an old saying with the air of finality.

Jason frowned. “Goddammit, I’m being serious here.” And raw, laid bare, fucking vulnerable.

“Yes, and so am I. You say it’s up to me and I say that I want you. And my omega _obviously_ wants you too,” Dick ran his finger up the side of his neck. “So badly my teeth are _aching_ to bite you.” His eyes narrowed, thoughtful. “But that’s not all this is about, is it?”

Jason looked away, his heart pounding in his chest.

“Hey,” Dick said, once he made himself comfortable in his lap. “Do you know what your thugs do in their free time?”

Jason shrugged. Pastimes of his men were hardly any of his concern at the moment.

“They terrorize the criminals in Blüdhaven to make sure Nightwing doesn’t have too much on his plate. Because stressed and overworked omegas are unlikely to go into heat. And they know I would spend all my heats with you.”

“WHAT?” Jason demanded. For fuck’s sake, he ordered them and not once, not twice, but on a three separate occasions _not_ to meddle with Nightwing’s affairs in that rotting carcass of a city! Bearing witness to one meltdown starring his exasperated Birdie was more than enough!

Dick wasn’t done talking. “The other day, I went to the Crime Alley to help B with a case. And guess what?” He asked, wrapping the white lock in his hair around his index finger – as if all of Jason hadn’t already been wrapped around his pinkie. “A horde of working girls rounded me up and chewed me out for, and I quote, _leading their home boy on_ , unquote. Who said home boy might be, I wonder.”

Jason gaped at him, frozen somewhere on the spectrum between hot embarrassment and disbelief.

Like, _why_? Yes, the _why_ of it – as in, _why would they even care?_ Life out in the Crime Alley didn’t allow the luxury of minding anything but one’s own business (Jason was speaking from experience), so _when_? Or like, _how_ did Red Hood become their _home boy_ of all things? He hardly ever dealt with them, beyond roughing up a violent pimp now and then, or stalking a shady john who just wouldn’t pay up, but come on! That was a common courtesy.

“Oh, and on my way up here I ran into one of your neighbours. The one we ran into the other day, by the lift.”

_Nancy_ , Jason realised and his blood went cold. Fuck, what did that old hag say to his Birdie?!

Dick grinned. He was enjoying this one-sided conversation way too much, in Jason’s humble opinion. “She threatened to beat me black and purple with her walker, if don’t make _her grandson_ an honest alpha.”

…And that officially tipped the scale to the side of hot embarrassment.

And there also was Dick’s most obnoxious laughter from his Robin days, because his sense of humour was just as shitty as his omega’s.

“My point is,” he said, still grinning and playing with his hair, “a lot of people look up to you and care for you, and see you for how great you are. So please,” his expression turned serious. “Whatever self-deprecating bull you’ve been telling yourself – **stop it**. I can’t have my alpha think so little of himself.”

Jason inhaled sharply. “Your alpha, huh?” It was the first time his Birdie ever called him that and damn, he never wanted to be called anything else.

“Omega wants what omega wants.” Dick quoted the saying again. There was nothing even remotely playful in his voice though, and did his eyes just glaze-over? Like they did when his omega took control? Or was that a trick of light? “By all means, try to change my mind. See how far it gets you.” A tinge in his scent was a challenge any sensible alpha knew better than to take.

Jason fancied himself sensible. “I’m good, thanks.” 

“Great. What side do you want it on?”

Jason rolled his eyes. As long as the bite was finally _there_ for him to boast and never wear a turtle-neck again in his life, he didn’t give a single shit on which side of his neck his Birdie would do the thing. “Just do it,” he urged, exposing his neck. He was too exhausted to let all of this drag out any longer.

“See you on the other side,” Dick said, nervous but excited, and the same emotions bled into his scent. Jason breathed it in, relishing in the curious sense of calm it brought him, silencing his thoughts, slowing down his heart. Something coiled in his chest – that young, terribly eager thing – was purring in delight, ready to be set free.

Leaning in, Dick cradled his head in his hand. He nuzzled Jason’s neck, then dropped a kiss to his scent glad, as if to apologise for the pain the bite would cause.

Jason held his breath. For all he knew maybe the whole world stopped for a second.

Then, sharp teeth were breaking the skin and biting into his scent gland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~Omg, I made them talk about feelings for four pages.~~  
>  (Dick's self-doubt was addressed, so it's only fair Jay's self-doubt is addressed too.)
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A couple of things.
> 
> First of all, **so sorry** for the long wait! I was busy working on fics for the JayDick Summer Exchange (feel free to check them in my profile 😉).  
> Secondly, THIS IS NOT THE LAST CHAPTER. ONE MORE IS COMING UP.  
> Thirdly, a warning: smut in the first part of this chapter.

At first, there was only pain; a sharp sting of his scent gland being torn open. It sent an electric shock throughout his body, setting his nerves alight down to his toes.

Jason sucked in a sharp breath, then ground his teeth. The hurt he could bear with, but the world was tilting on its axis – except that no, he was just falling forward, and resting his head on Dick’s shoulder – except that yes, for he couldn’t tell the up from down anymore, nor the left from right, nor the day from the night. Cool fingers were brushing his feverish brow, combing through his hair, but their soothing touch was lost to the fire ripping through his body, and neither could it calm the trembling in his hands.

( _Jay?_ Somebody called. _Are you going into a rut?_ They were asking galaxies away and centuries ago, so distant did the words seem to Jason. _Oh my_ , the whisper was like a tiny flicker of light on the night sky, barely visible with a naked eye, _I think you are_.)

 _The excitement, the thrill, the self-assurance_ were everywhere; in the air, in Jason’s blood, in his scent now; in the statics filling his ears, in the dark spots dancing in his vision; in the stinging pain that rippled somehow and was piercing through to his heart, closer and closer to that young, painfully eager thing, coiled and impatient, because the _out_ it had been looking for was almost _there_.

And then, in a single moment that felt like a small eternity, it finally broke free.

Pure exhilaration fuelled with raw want tore through his mind, flooding his consciousness – and Jason had to take a step away, for what had been but a voice in the back of his head was breaking the surface, and with its first breath it seized control.

Like a flip of a switch, the world zoomed back into clarity. There was a dull throbbing in his neck and the scent was running in his veins ( _claim_ , it sung, _it’s been given to you so it’s yours_ ), and the omega was there too. He was looking up at him, his eyes glazed-over, laying pliant on his back, pinned underneath his bulk. So exactly where he wanted him, ever since a whiff of his scent had stirred him awake _ages ago_.

It wasn’t Jason that growled, “took your sweet fuckin’ time, didn’t you?!”

If there was a small crease between the omega's brows or a whisper of _it's you who made me wait_ – he frankly didn't notice, already nosing along his collarbone, then up his neck (taunting him with how unmarred it was but not for much longer, dearest, _not for much longer_ ). He was pushing his bathrobe away – a thrice-cursed piece of fabric hiding his omega from him! – eager to leave his marks all over the golden expanse of skin. Wicked glee mixed into his desire at a shudder his touch elicited from the warm body beneath him – a desire that grew all the more urgent when his beloved scent ripened with sweetness reflecting a sharp arousal already coiled low in his stomach. “Let’s not wait any longer.”

“Alpha!” His omega whispered urgently, unceremoniously flipped over on his stomach.

“Right here,” he answered, his voice rough. “Your alpha’s right here.” He added, pleased to the point of smugness to (fucking _finally_ ) be able to call himself such. “Don’t worry,” he pushed down on omega’s shoulders, coaxing him into a typical breeding position. “Your alpha will take care of you so well.” He promised, helping him shrug off the offending piece of fabric, and at last, the damn thing was gone.

Even if he had the patience – which he didn’t – to worship his omega like he so deserved it, his fingers got a mind of their own, and he could only curse when they found their way between his thighs, then slid up even higher. “You’re so wet,” he pressed kisses to the omega’s back, his lips brushing words of wonderment against the golden skin. “So ready for your alpha, aren’t you?” He relished in a hitched breath at his finger catching on the rim, then slipping inside. “Yes, of course you are.” He cooed, drunk on his omega’s need for him, filling the air with cloying sweetness. “You chose me yourself, didn’t you? But I always knew I had to be yours.” While his omega saw little point in talking, he just didn’t seem able to shut up, spurred on by every little shudder, every fresh drop of slick falling on his hand. “Can you feel it?” He asked when he pressed his hardness against him, guiding himself to the omega’s entrance. “Your alpha’s ready for you too.”

He sunk into his omega, because he couldn't bear to wait any longer. The sweetness in the air, the scent already binding itself into his tissues, the tight heat surrounding him chased away any resemblance of _consciousness_ from his mind until left behind was only an overwhelming need to _fill_ his omega with himself. Uncaring of the bruises he would leave on his skin, he dug his fingers into his hips, driven by some primal urge to ensure his omega would not twist away from his embrace and run away before he gave him everything he wanted to give him.

“You will take it, won’t you?” He demanded, his movements growing frantic, his caresses less gentle. “Every single drop, from your alpha?”

His omega frantically nodded.

“Good.” He grinned, so fucking pleased with himself for proving himself worthy. Entranced by sweet little moans, he leaned over his omega to whisper into his ear, “I won’t give you a pup.” He ignored the answering distressed whine, only held his omega still, then pressed in his knot. “I will give you a whole,” he bit at his lip, “fucking,” he choked out a curse, pushing in, insistent, “LITTER!” He growled, finally tying them together.

“Alpha!” He was called again, and he had to groan at the sight of an unblemished neck barred only for him.

And there was simply no way in hell he could turn down such a generous invitation. Weak with pleasure, he grabbed a fistful of dark hair as he kissed his way up his neck to the scent gland. Then, he sunk his teeth into the flesh, marrying the golden skin forever.

*

With the bonding bite, Dick pushed Jason right under the speeding train that was his very first rut.

* * *

When he snapped out of it and the conscious mind-Jason resurfaced, it was to his Birdie drawing idle patterns over the plethora of freckles on his arm and shoulder.

“Jay?” Blue eyes peered up at him. “Are you back with me?” Dick carefully asked.

He was all cuddled up to Jason, his head pillowed on his chest – or rather, Jason reconsidered as he took him in again, he was pinned to his side, seemingly unable to wriggle out of – Jason blinked down at his arm, confused – the death grip he had on him…?

“Huh,” he said intelligently and relaxed his hold.

Dick chuckled. “Thanks. It was getting hard to breathe.”

Jason looked around, feeling a bit lost. His neck was throbbing on one side, right where his scent gland was (a bite, _he got a bite!_ ), and yeah, he remembered that. The nest being that much of a rumpled mess he remembered not, and neither did he recall Dick’s crimson bathrobe thrown on the ground in the corner, and…wait a minute, _hold on one fucking second_ , was that angry flesh wound his Birdie sported a BITE MARK?

“Did…?!” He trailed off, unsure what to ask about. _Is that a bite mark?_ Well _duh_ , he had a pair of perfectly working eyes, OF COURSE, it was a bite mark. _Is it mine?_ Who fucking else’s could it be?!

(Unless, unlikely as it seemed, some lucky bastard sneaked in and bit his Birdie while Jason was brain dead or otherwise incapacitated. Should that be the case, it wouldn’t even matter that an alpha’s bite on its own hardly meant a thing; they touched his omega, then they weren’t _just_ dead meat, they were a pile of fucking ashes, disintegrated molecules spewed into the void of the uninhabited universe –!)

But if he did put a bite mark on his Birdie, then _how the fuck come_ instead of a precious memory he wanted to cherish till the day he would kick the bucket for real, he was only drawing a blank?

Dick innocently blinked up at him, wilfully ignoring both his confusion and the sudden spike of murderous rage. “Did you go into a rut the second I gave you my bite?”

_…What._

“What?” Dumbfounded, he said out loud the word his mind was playing on repeat.

“Why, yes.” Dick gave him a beatific smile that somehow was pure evil. “You did.”

And because his Birdie was a little shit with a terrible sense of humour, he proceeded to snigger at the look of pure horror that etched itself on Jason’s face.

“I guess your alpha was just that eager to meet my omega.” He said, when Jason hid his face in his hair, absolutely mortified.

Just fucking great. It was like his presentation all over again, which now he would never live down for sure.

“Oh, come on.” Dick ran a calming hand up and down his arm. “I think it was very flattering.” His lips were curled in that impish smirk reminiscent of his Robin days, Jason just knew.

His face grew even hotter.

“Look at it like this,” Dick tried to reason. “At least you didn’t _go feral_.”

Yeah, he supposed he didn’t. Small mercy, that.

“Hey,” Dick whispered sometime later. He led his finger up Jason’s arm and over his shoulder to ghost a touch over the wound on the side of his neck. Jason shivered a little at the gentle caress. “Our scents changed.”

Ah, yes. They would do that, wouldn’t they? Now that he and Dick were a _mated pair_ , and oh sweet fuck! Jason could already tell in the weeks to come he would be downright obnoxious calling them that, or himself _Dick’s alpha_ , every chance he got; he would somehow find a way to bring it up in any conversation he was going to have, no matter its subject. Just like he would be fingering his bite mark whenever he could a glimpse of its reflection, be it in a shop window or broken glasses of a random scumbag he’d be beating the crap out of – reverently and in awe.

But for now, he cuddled his Birdie closer and nosed at the side of his neck.

He took a deep breath and _t_ _he excitement, the thrill, the self-assurance_ were still there of course, but now mixed with them was a note Jason recognised from his own scent – one that smelled like pure danger and triggered mind-numbing fear in common thugs. His Birdie, however, insisted was _sweet and exhilarating_ , because he was that much of an adrenaline junkie.

Perhaps it was a good thing Dick covered his scent when in public, Jason thought as he hid a wry grin, for a feral Nightwing smelling like _that_ wouldn’t simply be damn intimidating, no, nuh-uh, nope. He would exude top of the food chain predator energy so great, it would bring all of Gotham’s underworld on its knees and have it _swearing fealty_.

(Did he mention that his Birdie was the best omega ever? And he gave Jason his bite!)

He rubbed his wrist on the side of his neck to check his smell. How peculiar, he mused, that his Birdie would make Jason’s _danger_ a part of his scent, to wear like a polite warning for the whole wide world – _beware, for this omega is bonded_. _Touch a hair on the head of his chosen mate or pups, and he shall become the most ferocious enemy you will ever have misfortune to meet._

And how oddly fitting that of all the notes swirling in the Dick’s scent, it was the _self-assurance_ that took, becoming part of Jason’s. He could already feel it seeping through his mind, giving a permanent boost to all kinds of confidence.

Jason grinned. Next time a random Justice League goody two shoes or boy-slash-girl scout from the herd of their glorified sidekicks gave Red Hood shit about anything at all, he could totally be like _sorry, couldn’t quite hear you over the sound of Nightwing giving me his bite_ , or maybe _the multiversal constant of goodness and beauty chose me for his alpha, therefore your argument is invalid_. He could also add _you bitch_ at the end, just to emphasise his point.

Dick smiled at him, then turned his head to nuzzle at Jason’s neck. “I like my scent on you too.”

Jason looked at him, thoughtful. When Dick put it like that, Jason could see why John Grayson had once upon the time chosen to cover his scent, obeying his wife’s family tradition. Mary believed – and passed that belief onto her son – that her scent was private, meant to be cherished. Yet, she gave that precious part of herself to her husband, just like Dick did to him.

It was only fair that Jason kept the scent he was gifted safe for his Birdie, as Dick’s father had once done for his mother.

“Babe?” He asked, his fingers drawing lazy circles over golden skin.

Dick hummed in response.

“Can you borrow me a few of your scent-blocking patches?”

“What?” He propped himself up on his elbows to properly look Jason in the eyes. With his brows furrowed, eyes narrowed and a mother of all bed hair on his head, Dick (his omega!) was a picture of messy confusion.

“Just to tie me over before I get round to buying my own?” He grinned, waiting for his Birdie to put two and two together.

Understanding dusted his cheeks with red. “You don’t have to…” Dick trailed off, but his pretty blue eyes were wide with wonder, and was that a smile Jason spied tugging at the corners of his mouth?

“Yeah, I know.” Jason shrugged, suddenly feeling shy. “Still want to, though.” He mumbled, scowling at the red quilt laying in a heap by his side.

Dick kissed him.

* * *

Early on day four of the radio silence from their boss, lieutenants’ cell phones buzzed with incoming messages. Short and to the point – a familiar address followed by a command to bring food _and fuck’s sake look inconspicuous_. Approximately 1.8 minute later, every goon, thug and street rat wearing Red Hood’s insignia was notified of the fact, so in less than five minutes all of Crime Alley, from hookers to beggars, was abuzz with the news. Which in turn meant that scarcely three minutes later Nightwing’s associates based in the city (most likely the Bats) caught a wind of it, and by the power of family drama they made this juicy piece of info spread like a wildfire through the grapevine to the most prominent mobsters of Blüdhaven, so soon enough – _for no reason at all_ – a phone on the mayor’s desk was ringing, thus in less than twenty minutes two cities were in uproar, because Nightwing’s heat ended and the stakes had never been higher.

Twenty-five minutes after Red Hood’s lieutenants received the initial message, three armoured SUVs left the base of operations. As if by magic, the streets on their way were cleared and traffic lights were turning green. In no time at all they reached their destination; the scary looking man with a mean scar slashed across his face opened the door and out stepped the gang newbie, balancing three pizzas, two boxes of cereal and a gallon of milk.

Men around were nodding at him, rough hands were patting on his back; someone might have even saluted. The gang newbie nodded to himself as well. This task, this mission…this was everything he _was not_ trained for, because it was something greater. A history in the making and he had the best seat on the house. Failure was not an option. Come what may, he would deliver the boss’ order right to the man’s doorstep.

(The gang newbie puffed out his chest. Never had he been more grateful for his baby face and clean beta scent as it made him, to quote the boss, _for fuck’s sake look inconspicuous_.)

He almost crashed into two old ladies lurking by the lift, one with a walker, another with a hearing aid. They somehow knew who he was and where he was headed (which frankly speaking was very alarming), and without so much as by your leave loaded him food containers, almost upsetting the balance of his handful. They were still gushing about _their boy Jay having so many nice friends_ when the lift doors swooshes closed on them.

Then, finally, he got to the fifth floor. It was with a beating heart that he awkwardly knocked on the door to boss’ place; with a bated breath that he watched them crack open; with barely concealed glee that he saw Red Hood with just a domino mask on step outside and quickly close his flat, not a whiff of Nightwing’s scent allowed past.

And it was with a dropped jaw that he caught sight of Red Hood’s absolutely mangled neck.

 _Shit fuck_ , if the newbie didn’t know any better, he would have hazarded a guess his boss had an unfortunate run-in with a hungry, toothless vampire, not a pleasurable romp in the sheets with the most eligible omega in both Gotham and Blüdhaven. Did Nightwing go feral during his heat or something?! Damn, he knew Red Hood was an admirable man but his alpha got to be another thing altogether to have survived whatever had happened in the nest no worse to wear.

“Huh, figures it would be you.”

He snapped his jaw shut, schooling his expression to something at least resembling chill. “Good morning, boss.” He carefully transferred the mountain of food to Red Hood. 

The newbie noticed a flash of white higher up on his neck – scent blocking patches, huh, the boss never wore them before. Trying not to be too obvious about it, he squinted at the one of the left for lo and behold, there was an edge of an angry looking flesh wound peeking from under it.

A flesh wound that could have only been a bite mark.

 _Keep you shit together_ , the newbie told himself firmly. Mentally he might as well been rolling on the floor while kicking his legs and screaming, but outright got to remain cool and collected. “Boss?” He inquired politely. “Am I right to presume that congratulations are in order?”

And he almost got a heart attack for his troubles, because Red Hood _grinned_ at him. Shit, the newbie didn’t know his mimic muscles could do that.

“Yeah.” He said, his happiness at the fact evident in his voice. “I’m his alpha now.”

_Oh shit, thank fuck, YES._

He cleared his throat. “May I ask **_when_** it happened?” The newbie aimed for casual, even though so much cash for so many people was riding on the answer. ~~And he would be the first to know!~~

“Once his heat dwindled.”

He slapped on a pleasant smile and took a deep breath through his nose. He would keep it down until he at least got to the lift. “Congratulations again, boss.”

He politely nodded, when the boss waived him off, and slowly made his way back to the lift. Waiting for the blasted thing to get to the fifth floor felt like forever, but as soon as the door pinged closed, the newbie was frantically fanning himself like an overexcited cheerleader on a go-go juice.

He did it; it happened; their pack had head omega and the newbie knew about it, and would be the one to announce it to the city and the world that **NIGHTWING DID THE THING RIGHT AFTER.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~I can't believe I wrote that smut scene.~~
> 
> One more chapter to go!
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> Not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to Redzik, CaramelMachete and Epistemology! I couldn't have got this chapter done without your support ❤️.

Jason and Dick remained blissfully unaware of the fact, wrapped up in each other as they were, but no sooner had the three armoured SUVs been spotted zipping through the city than the nervous anticipation grew nearly suffocating, figuratively liquefying in the air to rain down on the good people of Gotham (and Blüdhaven too).

Even the least observant, semi-law-abiding, no cape citizens could tell that something was going on, when a crowd of shady characters gathered at the Crime Alley for public viewing of some kind, or when common thugs, both those loitering about and strutting down the streets, were pausing on said loitering and strutting – and yes, mugging was put on hold too – to take out their phones, then shush innocent passers-by and unfortunate muggees alike. Not that either the former or the latter seemed to mind; quite the contrary, most of them (because those in on the bet were legion) were frantically checking their own phones, just like the most prominent crime lords in Blüdhaven were, or craning their necks to watch with the thugs live streaming of a smug, baby-faced goon stepping outside of a nondescript block of flats to address a horde of expectant henchmen.

For a single moment, an absolute stillness overtook the underworld and the whole of the cape community, from the Bat Cave below to the Watch Tower above. Breaths were held, fingers were crossed and silent prayers were sent. Even the inmates at Arkham inexplicably grew quiet.

In the resounding silence, six words about Nightwing and a _thing_ rang triumphantly.

A fraction of second later an ear-shattering roar of joy rose over two cities.

At Crime Alley, confetti was falling from the rooftops like red and blue snow on an assortment of working girls and the homeless, mean-faced thugs and recent juvie escapees, all squealing or hugging each other, tearing up with joy or jumping in fifteen-centimetre stilettos like children high on sugar. Though to be fair, some were cheering through their tears of _not_ -joy, because money was changing hands while a certain redhead lady was gloating _told ya Nighty’s classy, he’d wait ‘till right after_. Meanwhile, in Blüdhaven, crime lords were popping champagne to the sound the many new zeros on their bank accounts – they knew their eye-candy, alright, he wouldn’t bite anyone when in heat – and back in an okay neighbourhood in Gotham, Nancy and Tracy high-fived each other, because their Jay was finally made an honest alpha and none of their friends at the local senior centre thought to bet on _right after_.

Right outside, and all over Gotham really, little street rats were already spraying purple Bat signs on the buildings (for purple was obviously the colour of the union between _Red_ Hood and Nightwing with his iconic _blue_ finger stripes, **_duh_** ), while the digital screen on the Wayne Tower might or might not have been hacked into, as it now displayed a proud if vague _HE DID THE THING RIGHT AFTER_ , signed with the Red Hood’s symbol. Staring up at it, or down at their own phones, the innocent passers-by were applauding, the muggees were rejoicing and random thugs – the ones on Penguin’s and Scarecrow’s meagre payroll with no employee benefits very much included – were pumping their fists because Nightwing was clearly a reincarnation of the French Princess (c’mon, who haven’t heard about the _gone feral_ incident?!) and Red Hood was rumoured to give his goons full health insurance THAT ALSO COVERED DENTAL ~~, and his gang boasted about Fruit Thursdays too~~.

Tourists were looking around feeling terribly confused, even more so when an unscheduled firework show that evening would paint the skies red and blue.

*

As all of the above was unfolding, _those nice young men so happy for their Jay_ were crowding around the now full-fledged member of their gang, positively losing their goddamn minds, but doing their best to be discreet about it. After all, their boss did tell them to be inconspicuous, even if that ship had sailed the moment armoured SUVs pulled up in here, and their assault rifles probably didn’t help the matters either. Still, a bash right in front of Red Hood’s civilian place would only piss the man off and displease Nightwing (the head omega of their pack!) which would be criminal. Despicable. Downright immoral.

So there they were, forcing themselves to stay quiet (unlike their colleagues attending this assembly on zoom), when they so desperately wanted to shout from the rooftops or better yet, speed through the city, shooting bullets up into the sky and cheering. Keeping it all in felt like suffocating, so the lieutenants made haste to reorganise the gang into three groups. One would be out in the streets, going extra vicious to keep Gotham’s various scumbags in line, another one would be running errands and taking a breather, while the last one would be free to drink themselves halfway to death in celebration, then switch. That way, they would keep their bases covered and the party going round the clock, for as long as their boss remained, ah…out of office.

…Thought honestly, they needn’t worry about keeping the scumbags in line. Years later, Commissioner Gordon would pour over the GCPD statistics, wracking his brains out as to why crime rates in a random forty-eight hour period took a dip to the historic low, while alcohol sales rose to the unprecedented high. _Gotham’s underworld celebrating_ would not cross his mind.

*

At the same time in the channel four studio, a presenter was wrapping up local news section.

“…some suspect the individual known as Red Hood might be behind this alleged cyberattack.” The production team showed again the photo of a mysterious message displayed on the Wayne Tower in Gotham. “But a Wayne Tech representative denies rumours of a security breach.” The presenter cleared her throat. “Now, joining us here to talk more about his surprising decision to increase municipal funding to the daycare centres is the mayor of Blüdhaven, Mister…Mister Mayor?!” 

Cameras turned to the man in question, zooming in on the red splotches on his cheeks and big, fat tears running down his face.

“Mister mayor, are you… unwell?”

The mayor finally looked up from the phone clasped in his trembling fingers. “I a-apologise,” he sobbed. “I-it’s just that...,” he sniffed.

Perplexed, the presenter handed him a tissue.

So what, if the mayor lost the bet. So what, if Nightwing giving his bite after the heat not during cost him twenty grand and a beach house. The point here was that Nightwing at long last gave someone his bite, period. Now that he was safely bonded with that brute, Red Hood, a parade of dangerous fuck-ups lead by none other than Deathstroke (and why, oh _why_ was that dude so infuriatingly persistent, even kindergartner children in Blüdhaven knew the pretty vigilante boy would not choose this menace for his alpha) would stop pulling on Nightwing’s pigtails. And by _pulling on Nightwing’s pigtails_ the mayor meant _destroying his city_.

He accepted the tissue, wailing like an inconsolable toddler. How could he not when for the first time in what felt like forever the city budget was freed up for something other than rebuilding, and oh the dear Lord, the infrastructure! It might finally get a chance to get old, in need of maintenance rather than reconstruction!

And this miracle occurred while _he_ was in the office. Hot damn, he might even get re-elected!

“It’s just that today is such a wonderful day.” The mayor noisily blew his nose. “I’m so darn happy.”

*

Down in the Batcave, Batman viciously jabbed the end call button, cutting down communication with the Watch Tower, then unmuted the recording of a spectacular live TV meltdown starring the mayor of Blüdhaven.

He sighed. So **_the thing_** happened. His omega child ~~abandoned him~~ gave his bite to the alpha ~~he chose over Bruce~~ he liked and believed competent enough ~~, unlike his ageing father,~~ to keep him safe during his vulnerable times. Someone else was gifted the trust ~~Bruce had been robbed of~~ that came with his omega child nesting on their territory.

He sniffed.

A part of him that was still in awe of Jason living and breathing, and grown into being an admirable alpha, was genuinely happy for that angry (but so talented!) fifteen year old he had once been, already so in love that his young heart was breaking. But another part of Bruce, the one that desperately wished Dick was the adorable eight years old again with sparkling blue eyes who brought so much – dare he say – _joy_ into his life, was weeping.

Unsure how to deal with all these emotions, he did what he excelled in – squashed them down. The struggle was real, but he did manage to straighten the unhappy downturn of his mouth into a cold-hearted flat line.

At his point, he only hoped Dick would finally come to visit him at the manor, if only to follow the tradition and officially present his alpha.

He had to ask Alfred to bake more cookies for the afternoon tea today, just in case.

* * *

Between the Post-Heat Alpha Separation Anxiety Syndrome and the dull throb on the side of his neck ( _the bite, his Birdie gave him his bite!_ ), all Jason wanted from life was to stay in the safety of his territory and indulge Dick’s craving for cuddles. A suggestion to venture out was thus met with a great deal of scepticism on his part, while a more fleshed-out idea of venturing out for a visit to the Wayne Manor specifically was flat out _hell_ _no_ ed. Despite coming to a sort of, kind of understanding with Bruce, Jason still felt the _do not engage with the old Bat_ policy was ought to be upheld.

As the alpha in the relationship, Jason was firm in his refusal. Unyielding. Not be swayed in any way, shape or form. So when his Birdie fluttered his eyelashes, saying how he wanted to _show off **his alpha**_ , the next thing Jason knew, he was obediently sipping Earl Gray at the Wayne’s, while the old Bat skulked by the door and Dick consoled the inconsolable.

“But I cannot comprehend this!” The demon brat was bawling his eyes out, draped all over Dick with his nose pressed to his neck. According to Alfred, he had been beyond upset since he had checked his phone in a science class and subsequently thrown a tantrum to end all tantrums that resulted in half the campus being evacuated. The old butler and the headmaster of the Gotham Academy agreed over the phone it would be advisable to take young master Wayne from school early that day.

“I told you to wait until I am of age!” The little gremlin wailed, sniffed at Dick’s neck, then wailed even louder.

Under normal circumstances, the sheer audacity of the brat, taking such liberties with _his_ Birdie, would have Jason seeing red and seething with rage. But since Dick was allowing it, and Jason was still floating on cloud nine ( _he got the bite!_ ), instead of losing it, he calmly spread jam then cream on a freshly baked scone, as Alfred had always insisted was proper.

“It’s not always what you want that matters, Dami,” Dick patiently said, patting the brat on the head.

Not raising his head from the crook of Dick’s neck, the little gremlin blindly pointed behind himself to where Jason was sitting on the opposite side of the table. “Of all people, why _Todd_?”

 _Fuck you too, brat_ , Jason thought, even though the question itself did pique his interest. Taking a bite of his scone, he eyed his Birdie, expectant.

Dick bashfully (since when was he bashful?) looked away from Jason, a touch of red heating up his face. “Because he’s perfect for me.” Ignoring Damian’s snort, in a much smaller voice, he added, “and I love him.”

…And that was how Jason Todd met his end. Not being dismissed by the only omega he had ever cared for, nor having realised he made said omega agitated, but having witnessed that omega drop the l-word he had been longing to hear his whole life, all causal as if admitting he reciprocated Jason’s love was no biggie. Even if going down with his cheeks stuffed with half-chewed scone was somewhat undignified, he didn’t mind in the slightest, because (as corny as it sounded) he felt like his soul was ascending to heaven.

The bawling started anew.

Dick forced out a good-natured laugh, studiously avoiding eye-contact. “When you’re all grown up,” he hadn’t yet given up the effort to cheer the gremlin up, “you will have to beat omegas off with a stick, so many of them would be desperate to give you their bites.”

The Spawn sniffed. “But I don’t want their bites.” _Just yours_ , though unspoken, hung heavy in the air.

“Oh, Dami.” Dick sighed. He rubbed the brat’s back, sympathetic but visibly troubled; distinctively uncomfortable with the direction their conversation had taken.

And that was Jason’s cue to sweep in and save the day.

He cleared his throat once he swallowed a mouthful of scone. “Okay, brat.” Jason stood up and walked around the table. “Time’s up.” Gripping the scruff of his neck, he lifted the little terror off Dick’s lap and set him down on the floor. “Can’t hog Birdie to yourself, old Bat’s waiting for his turn too.”

Dick gave him a grateful smile but wouldn’t quite meet his eyes, still flustered.

Jason felt himself go weak at the knees. ~~(His Birdie loved him!)~~

“Come on, B. Stop lurking there,” Dick called over his shoulder, successfully luring the Bat into the glass-enclosed patio. He took one good look at Bruce’s clenched jaw and groaned. “B, _we’ve talked about this_. I’m not abandoning you!”

Bruce remained stiff and standoffish until Dick wrapped his arms around him – then, he melted into the embrace, scenting him mournfully.

Although Pack Abandonment Syndrome was no joke and Jason was full of understanding, this was getting ridiculous, for fuck’s sake, the Bat was acting like Birdie was _dying_ , not **happily** bonded. (Also, seeing the Bat defeated like that surprisingly didn’t bring Jason any joy.)

“Yep. If Birdie doesn’t want to talk with you, you’ve only yourself and your bullshit to blame,” he threw in his two cents to lighten up the lugubrious mood.

Bruce looked at him over Dick’s shoulder and sniffed.

Jason could not resist an urge to roll his eyes.

“Richard,” the little gremlin tugged at Dick’s shirt. “Would you consider re-bonding, if Todd were to widow you? Unfortunate accidents might befall him in his line of job.” He asked shrewdly, glancing at Jason with a nasty smirk.

 _That little shit!_ Jason bared his teeth with a growl that abruptly died down the second his eyes fell on his Birdie, for the change in his pleasant demeanour was immediate and profound.

Dick tore himself from Bruce’s embrace. A shadow crossed his face like a hint of sinister intent that darkened his blue eyes, already glazed over, while the air grew thick with his scent; the new note it held, the one that spoke of _danger_ , rose goosebumps on their arms. He loomed over the little gremlin, his hard stare keeping him in a place like a pin did a butterfly displayed in a glass case, and when he spoke, it wasn’t Dick talking. Not really.

“Should any _unfortunate accident_ befall **my alpha** ,” in the oppressive silence, his whisper rang loud and clear, “I would personally make the ones responsible curse the day they were born.”

The demon brat curled into himself and _whimpered_.

Bruce took a step back, rapidly paling.

Jason discretely fanned himself, because _wow_ , did it suddenly get hot in here or what? He didn’t swoon _per se_ –

…okay, he totally did swoon but COME ON, his Birdie just vowed to take _bloody revenge_ for him! He was so turned on there was scarcely any blood left in the upper part of his body thus he felt quite lightheaded.

He sank on a nearby chair.

(Damn, he had to get his courage up and bring up the subject of maybe, possibly, hypothetically having pups with his Birdie, as soon as possible!)

Dick curled his lips in the brightest of smiles and just like that the tension lessened; the Bat and his Spawn both greedily sucked in air, suddenly able to breathe again; the sun hesitantly peaked from behind clouds.

“Fortunately, no freak accident is going to happen to Jay now, **_is it_.**” It wasn’t a question but a demand for compliance, perhaps all the more intimidating for the sunny smile he gave them rather than despite it.

The brat gulped. He was doing very a poor job at hiding how shaken a close encounter with Dick’s omega left him. “Of course not.”

Dick ruffled his hair.

*

Once his Birdie got the Waynes seated and the Bat choked out his best wishes, Alfred made an appearance, carrying a batch of cookies, fresh from the oven.

Jason promptly straightened up from his slouch.

“Congratulations, Master Jason.” The old butler smiled, then nodded his approval as his eyes fell on the half-eaten scone ( _it’s jam first, Master Jason, **jam first**_ ).

“Thanks,” he smiled, feeling validated. “Good to see you, Alfie.”

“As happy as I am for you, I can’t say I am surprised. I always knew it was just a matter of time with you and Master Dick.” Alfred remarked in that smug manner all elderly seemed to share when talking about unlikely romances blossoming and how they had seen them coming from miles away on a misty day.

Jason raised an eyebrow, amused. “Did you now?”

Alfred hummed. “I seem to recall it was during your first meeting that Master Dick’s scent forced you to present.”

Jason groaned. Was it too much to ask? Was it?! To let him live that one down at some point?!

“I also distinctly remember how…tormented you were by Master Dick’s scent, on the rare occasions you were here, in the Manor, during his heat. I believe you said it wouldn’t leave you alone; that it followed you wherever you went.”

Well…yeah. Jason remembered that too; _the excitement, the thrill, the self-assurance_ permeating the whole Manor, impossible to get rid of, impossible to hide from. Chasing him even in his dreams.

( _Don’t you dare to ignore me. Don’t you dare to dismiss me._ )

Why was he bringing this up now?

“By no means is it a scientifically proven fact. More of an old wife’s tale from the old country, if you will,” Alfred levelled him with a meaningful look. “But it is believed that some omegas are blessed with a special kind of premonition when it comes to their mates. Upon the very first meeting, they seem to instinctively recognise them, even if both alpha and the omega in question still have a lot of growing up to do, and their bonding won’t happen until many years later.”

 _Back then, you smelt like **not yet**_ , his Birdie said, didn’t he?

Jason frowned, thoughtful.

“Personally I always felt there were certain things the omega in Master Dick was perfectly aware of, while his conscious mind had yet to catch up on them,” Alfred offered offhandedly, putting empty creamer on his tray.

“What are you trying to say?” He asked, even though he already had a pretty good idea what it was.

Alfred as good as confirmed it in the trademark Pennyworth fashion. “Oh, nothing much sir,” he waved Jason off, but a knowing smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Please, do not trouble yourself with ramblings of an old butler.” He excused himself with a small nod, taking the tray with him.

A warm hand covered his. “Jay?” Dick called softly. “You seem spaced out, is everything okay?”

Spanned out of his thoughts, Jason turned his head to look into worried, blue eyes. His Birdie was peering up at him, so beautiful his heart was aching, and his hand squeezing Jason’s felt like a wordless confession. His scent was there too. It swirled around them in the air Jason breathed, impossible to escape.

But Jason didn’t want to escape.

Ignoring the Bat and his horrified expression, pre-emptively giving the Brat the finger, he leaned in and kissed his Birdie.

“Sorry for making you wait.” He murmured under his breath once they parted.

“Huh?” Dick blinked at him, breathless.

Jason grinned. Taking a page from Alfred’s book, he said, “nothing at all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Omg, I can't believe it's the last chapter! Writing this fic got me through some dark 2020-times, so I feel rather emotional right now 😭.  
> I'd like to thank you all for sticking with this story to the happy end 😊. I appreciate every kudo, every comment. And althought I wrote this fic sorely for myself, I hope it made you smile too.
> 
> ~~I already miss our boys!~~
> 
> You can find me [here](https://hedgebelle.tumblr.com/).  
> There's not much in there, but feel free to say hi :D.
> 
> PS. Mel drew beautiful fanarts for this fic! You can check them out [here](https://mlim8.tumblr.com/post/639756118717054976/back-then-all-the-roads-lead-back-to-you-by).


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